Separation Anxiety
by Okaeri-Kairi
Summary: [Mafia AU] Among the underground organizations of St. Petersburg, none is more feared than the Nikiforov family, an infamous group that is said to be led by a man of cold blood and steel. Viktor, the son of the previous boss, knows only too well just how frightening this man is. He is, after all, married to him.
1. Yuuri (Courage)

**Many thanks to Minatu, who came up with this AU in the first place and kindly allowed me to write a fic on it! Please, enjoy!**

* * *

The boy that arrived in his father's car that day was unlike anyone Viktor had ever seen. As he was ushered out by the chauffeur, Viktor couldn't help but stare. Hair blacker than coal fell over a pair of dark, angled eyes, the rim of his glasses partially obscured by his bangs. He was small, positively tiny, with a thin mouth and sharp nose, and he seemed nervous, unable to look up from the ground.

He'd never met a foreigner before, but he could tell at a glance that this boy, this small, pale, delicate looking boy, was not Russian by blood.

"Vitya, manners," his father barked, and Viktor gave a start, embarrassed at having been caught staring. He quickly averted his curious gaze and straightened his back, trying to stand as proudly as he could.

The boy was offered a hand by one of the associates, and he accepted it shakily. He was wearing a shirt that looked far too large for him, but he was otherwise dressed so lightly that Viktor didn't begrudge him the trembling; it was the middle of winter, and St. Petersburg was cold enough as it was. Clinging to his dingy looking backpack, the child was brought before Viktor's father, his eyes looking up at the large blonde man apprehensively.

"Welcome, Yuuri," Mikhail said, his tone not unkind. To Viktor's surprise, his father bent down on one knee to meet the child eye to eye and took the boy's face in his hands. "My condolences for your loss."

The boy didn't respond, merely stared back into the brown eyes, confused. Mikhail nodded at a man standing next to Viktor, who stepped forward and began to speak in a strange language. Yuuri listened quietly, then mumbled something in return. His voice was very soft, and Viktor thought it sounded broken, somehow, though he couldn't understand a word he said.

The translator nodded and addressed Mikhail once more. "He says he is thankful for your kind words, and that he is pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Polite, eh?"

"Yes, sir. He was taught well."

"Good, good," Mikhail nodded to himself. "Tell him that he is more than welcome here; any son of Toshiya is, by bond, a son of mine."

Viktor watched the exchange curiously. The words seemed to have a profound effect on the boy; his lip began to tremble and it seemed like he was drawing in on himself, his little hand tightening around the strap of his pack.

 _"A... ari... rigatou_ ," he choked, tears spilling over his cheeks. Mikhail, though he didn't seem to understand the word, softened his expression and pulled the child into an embrace.

"From today on, you are my son," he said firmly. "Let no one doubt that you are Yuuri Nikiforov, my second son." As the translator repeated the words, Yuuri broke into a wail, throwing his arms around Mikhail's shoulders. Without further comment, Viktor's father lifted him up and settled him in his arms. "Vitya, come along," he said, gesturing for Viktor to follow as he turned to enter the house. He obeyed and hurried after his father, his blue eyes trained on the small, crying face that now belonged to his brother.

* * *

"Mama, doesn't that boy know Russian?"

His mother, Katerina, looked up from her book to find Viktor seated at her feet, his normally cheerful face marred by a frown.

"Boy?" she asked, still half-absorbed in the novel she was reading. She blinked and seemed to come back to her senses. "Oh, you mean Katsuki Yuuri."

"Ka... zuki?"

"Katsuki," she corrected, patting the space on the divan next to her. Viktor obliged and took a seat at her side, looking up at her curiously. "Did your father not explain to you?"

"He only said Yuuri is my brother, and that he was brought from overseas because he was alone."

"That Mikhail," Katerina sighed. "Always so vague." She raised her hand to her lips, thinking for a moment. "Do you know where Japan is, Vitya?"

"Japan? Isn't it an Asian country?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Yes, but it is also one of our neighbors," she explained. "Though it is incredibly far from St. Petersburg."

"Further than Moscow?"

"Much, much farther," she assured him, giving him a small smile. She was very beautiful, and Viktor had often been told that his platinum-blond hair and blue eyes reminded people of his mother. "Japan is on the other side of Russia, after China. That's the country that Yuuri comes from."

"He came all that way?!" he asked, shocked.

"Yes. Russia and Japan have had their disputes in the past, but the Nikiforov family actually has important ties to the mafia there," she continued, ruffling his hair gently. "In Japan, the mafia is called the 'yakuza' and, just like our own organizations, is run by powerful families. Yuuri's father was Katsuki Toshiya, the leader of the Katsuki group. He and _your_ father have been friends for many, many years."

"Really?"

"Mhm. Katsuki and Mikhail go very far back. They met when they were about your age, though only because their fathers hated one another and were always feuding over something. Somehow, they became close friends, and that never changed."

"How come I never met him?" Viktor asked, trying to recall a time when he might have seen this foreigner.

"You did," Katerina said. "He visited you quite a lot when you were a small child, though after his own son was born, he found it more difficult to travel here. His wife died in childbirth, you see."

"So Yuuri's mama..."

"Died, yes. He's never met her."

"Oh..." A pang of sympathy went through him. He couldn't imagine growing up without a mother.

"We meant to visit ourselves, but things never seemed to work out," she sighed, brushing back a strand of his hair. "In the end, we never managed to see Katsuki Toshiya alive again..."

Viktor stared down at his knees in silence. _So that's why Yuuri was crying..._

"Your father and Toshiya made a promise, long ago," Katerina continued, her voice gentle. "If either of them died, they wanted the other to take care of their families. So when Toshiya died, Mikhail sent for Yuuri. That's why Yuuri is here, and that's why he doesn't know Russian." She stopped, giving Vitya a sad smile. "Be kind to him, Vitya. That boy has lost more than you can imagine, and he'll have to start over in a strange country all by himself. It will be hard to speak to him for a while, but he'll learn your language, if you're patient. He's a member of the family now, so you must treat him like one, understand?"

Viktor nodded.

"Yes, mama."

* * *

It was harder than he thought. Yuuri mostly kept to himself, and he seemed to be wary of everyone except Mikhail. He often disappeared for hours, only to be found asleep in a closet or other small space, his face stained with tears. Sometimes, he spotted Viktor and ran in the opposite direction; his father explained that Yuuri was frightened of people with blue eyes because there were superstitions in Japan about demons with strangely colored irises. Viktor thought that was exceedingly silly, but there was nothing he could do about it. At five, Yuuri was four years younger than Viktor, and he wasn't sure what he should do to show Yuuri that he meant him no harm, and that he only wanted to be friends.

His chance came a few days later. He'd been given a bag of sweets by one of his father's men, and he went off in search of his new brother, thinking that sharing would likely break the ice between them.

Yuuri wasn't in his room or in the foyer, and a quick turn around the garden proved that he wasn't outside either. Viktor huffed to himself, slightly annoyed. He fell to the grass, staring up at the clouds petulantly.

 _No one's ever avoided me before,_ he thought to himself. _I don't like it._

Moodily, he pulled the bag of sweets from his pocket and popped one into his mouth, biting down on it with a satisfying crunch.

 _There's nothing to be scared of! Mama and I aren't demons! And the family isn't scary either, they're always giving me things, even though they look so angry all the time. I'm sure they'd give Yuuri stuff too if he stopped crying for five seconds! Stupid crybaby._

He reached for a second piece, lost in his thoughts.

 _Though... I guess I'd be sad too, if Mama and Father were gone... but still, it's not like he doesn't have a family._ He chewed pensively for a moment, then suddenly sat up.

"That's right! He's not alone anymore!" he said aloud, startling a bird in a tree nearby. Excited by his discovery, he pulled himself up and ran back to the house to look for his father's translator.

* * *

" _Onii-san_ ," he said slowly. He'd cornered Yuuri after dinner in the hall and grabbed him by the wrist; the younger boy had tried to fight him off and run, but the sound of his native language stopped him in his tracks.

 _"Eh?"_

 _"Onii-san,"_ Viktor said again, pointing to himself as he repeated the words he'd been taught. _"Boku... wa kimi..."_ he paused, struggling to remember. _"Kimi no onii-san...?"_

Yuuri stared at him, bemused.

Viktor soldiered on. _"Da... dakara, kimi wa..._ no, wait, er... _kimi wo..._ I think... _wo ma.. mamotte,"_ he enunciated as best as he could. The words felt clumsy on his tongue, and he felt rather self-conscious as he said them. " _Itsu... itsumo!"_ he said, holding Yuuri's wrist with an almost desperate strength.

For a moment, it seemed like Yuuri would say something, but instead he shook his head and tried to pull away. _"Hanashite, kudasai..."_ he said softly. Viktor didn't know what the words meant, but he understood enough to know Yuuri was trying to run away.

"I promise!" he pleaded, switching back to Russian. "You're not alone anymore, Yuuri! I'll be here to protect you, forever!" It was an impulse, but he pulled Yuuri into a hug, trying to convey his sincerity in any way he could. Yuuri sniffled, and a moment later he seemed to break down into tears, his hands clinging to Viktor's shirt.

That was enough for Viktor to know he'd somehow gotten through.

"It's fine," he said, patting that black hair gently. "I'm here, and I'll never leave your side. No matter how much of a crybaby you are," he added. He smiled to himself, remembering a saying the Nikiforovs used often. "That's what it means to be brothers."

* * *

"You were a cheeky bastard, even back then."

"You think so? I was only trying to be friends."

"Calling yourself _onii-san_ , ha! And your Japanese was shit."

"Better than your Russian."

"Not a chance," Yuuri snorted, pulling out a cigarette. Viktor held out a lighter for him out of habit. "Still, it was a nice thing for you to do. At the time, I thought Father had put you up to it."

"No... Father always doted on you, but that was my own idea," Viktor said thoughtfully. "I suppose something about you just... called to me."

Yuuri took a drag on his cigarette, crossing his legs casually in his seat. "You always were a sweet-talker, Vitya."

"Guilty as charged," he said cheerfully. "It's a skill you learn, being in the mafia. By the way, Yuuri, you really should wear a seatbelt."

"Please. Russian roads are hell compared to this pathetic, easy going traffic." Yuuri clicked his tongue in annoyance, grimacing out the tinted window. At 23, he had grown well into his rather feminine looks, though it often gave people the mistaken impression that he was weak and docile. Viktor knew better, however. He knew that those seemingly gentle eyes held a spark of fire deep within, and he knew that his quiet demeanor was not due to shyness.

 _Or perhaps, it's better to say he only ever shows his shyness to me,_ he thought, unable to hold back a smile.

"What are you grinning about, Vitya?"

"Oh, nothing... Just thinking that no one knows the _real_ Yuuri Nikiforov," he said suggestively.

Yuuri sighed and put out his cigarette, giving Viktor an amused look. "You know, Vitya... if you think you're going to win a kiss with just that, you're very mistaken." He reached over and pulled Viktor forward by his tie. Their faces were inches from one another, and Viktor felt his heart stop at the sudden movement. "You'll have to try harder," Yuuri breathed, holding him in place for a good moment before letting go and leaning back in his seat.

Viktor knew his face was red.

"Y-Yuuri!"

"What? I thought you wanted to see the real me?" he replied calmly, cleaning his glasses on his shirt.

"Well, yes, but it's the middle of the day-!"

"I don't remember you complaining about it yesterday," Yuuri shrugged, driving Viktor into further embarrassment.

The driver cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "Ahem, we're almost to Hasetsu, boss."

"Alright," Yuuri replied simply, looking as unperturbed as ever. "Call Roma and tell him we're arriving shortly."

Viktor adjusted his necktie nervously, trying not to look at Yuuri. The gold band around his finger caught the light.

 _I guess I shouldn't complain. I got myself into this mess, knowing full well what kind of man he is._

"Vitya..."

"Y-yes?"

"Don't forget, this isn't a social visit. Try not to leave your gun behind this time."

"R-right."

A cold, hard look came over Yuuri's face. "I've waited far too long to blow a hole in that bastard's fucking head."

Neither Vitya nor the driver had anything to respond to that.

* * *

 **Notes:** Welp, I told myself I wouldn't start a new multi-chapter fic until i finished one of my currently running ones, but as soon as I saw Minatu's amazing AU comic I couldn't help it, I was a goner. I decided to start with baby Yuuri and Vitya, but the majority of the story will likely be about them as adults, with some flashbacks to how it is that Yuuri ended up succeeding Mikhail... and how they ended up married.

 **Notes for translation:**  
1\. "Boku wa kimi no onii-san." _I am your older brother._

2\. "Dakara, kimi wo mamotte! Itsumo!" _That's why, I'll protect you, forever!_

3\. "Hanashite, kudasai." _Please, let go._

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought, it always makes my day to get feedback on my works!


	2. Bratva

Viktor got out of the car first, eyes downcast as he walked around to open Yuuri's door for him. He stood back respectfully, one arm behind his back, as Yuuri stepped out into the bright Japanese sun for the first time in almost twenty years.

He blinked in the light for a moment, looking around at his surroundings with an inscrutable look on his face. Hasetsu was a small oceanside town without much in the way of... anything. Buildings and houses were fairly few in number, and the hill leading up to the castle was covered in trees. The place they'd come to was a small inn, a modest sign over the traditional sliding door announcing its name in Japanese characters. Yuuri made a noise somewhere between a snort and a grunt.

"You'd think I'd remember a name as stupid as that," he muttered, reaching into his coat pocket for another cigarette. Viktor cleared his throat.

"You shouldn't smoke so much," he said, and Yuuri gave him a pointedly disinterested look.

"That so?" he said, pulling out his lighter regardless. "You shouldn't smile so much," he rebuked. Viktor grinned despite himself.

"Smiling never killed anyone."

"Tell that to those Finnish idiots we took out last week," he said. "You worry too much. People in our line of work don't usually live long enough to die of lung cancer," Yuuri said, calmly. He put the cigarette to his mouth, his long, slender fingers lingering near his face for a moment too long. Viktor reached out, taking his hand and pulling the cigarette away.

"My job is to protect you so that you _do_ live a long time," he said firmly. "So it's also my job to watch out for your health."

Yuuri gave him a long, cold look, searching his face. Finally, to Viktor's relief, he chuckled. "Ah, you're the only person with the cheek to think you can tell me what to do, Vitya." He surrendered his cigarette, allowing Viktor to crush it under his shoe.

"Like I said, it's my job, Yuratchka."

"And why I keep you around," Yuuri said, walking forward. "But call me Yuratchka in public again, and I can't promise that you won't be _punished_."

"Wo-w, sounds fun," Viktor said, grinning as he fell into step with his boss. "You'll always be my little Yuratchka, though, Yuuri. Always and forever."

Yuuri came to an abrupt stop and grabbed Viktor by the collar violently, pulling him down to his height.

"Careful there, _onii-san_ ," he said softly, his voice next to Victor's ear. "Don't you know how to pick your battles?"

Viktor let out a choked sound, caught off guard, and Yuuri bit down on his earlobe. When he pulled away, Viktor stumbled on his own feet, face flushed, and Yuuri licked the corner of his mouth.

"Mm, that's the face I wanted to see," he said, a mischievous shine in his dark eyes. "A great expression to take with me to the grave, just in case we don't make it out of this one alive."

Viktor gasped to catch his breath, pressing a hand to his ear. "Fo-For fuck's sake, don't _do_ that!"

"Don't do what?" Yuuri asked lightly, resuming his walk down the path toward the inn with his hands in his pockets. "I was merely disciplining a puppy."

 _"You little-"_

"Now, now, Vitya, this is no time for messing around. We have a job to do."

* * *

The atmosphere in the inn was painfully tense. From the moment Viktor and Yuuri stepped through the sliding door, their chauffeur not far behind, several things happened in quick succession.

Firstly, a small group of Russians in full suits, sticking out like a sore thumb among the Asian decor, stood up from a table in the corner and bowed solemnly in their direction. Viktor nodded at them slightly, signalling at them to come forward. One tall man with an ugly scar on his right cheek and bright green eyes approached them.

"Roma, the situation," Viktor said without prompting. The man named Roma began to give his report in rapid Russian.

"Their leader hasn't arrived yet, and their side hasn't done anything to provoke us outright," he said. His voice was very gruff and low; it was very much at odds with Roma's figure, which was otherwise rather slender. Viktor had always privately thought that it was like listening to a bear speak through the body of a blonde waif.

"But they're here already?"

"Yes, sir. The place seems to have ties to the group; they started arriving soon after we did." Roma gestured behind them subtly, and Viktor surreptitiously looked over to find several rough looking men wearing colorful jackets standing near the counter. Several of them had prominent tattoos, and many of them were quite burly, but they were shorter than the Russians, for the most part, and Viktor noted with curiosity that some of them seemed to carry what looked like wooden swords and clubs.

"Not very subtle, are they?" he said brightly, pressing a finger to his lips.

In that same moment, one of them seemed to notice Viktor and Yuuri and nudged one of his fellows. A heavy-set Japanese man stepped toward them, and Viktor raised an eyebrow, waiting for the man to speak.

"Nikiforov?" he said in accented English.

"Depends who's asking," he replied.

"No need to ask, we already knew what you looked like," the man snorted.

"My, you all did your homework, didn't you?" Viktor said, unable to contained an amused grin. _"Ii, ne._ Very good. But it's quite rude to know who we are without revealing your own identity, don't you think?"

"Hmph," the man said, turning his head to spit at the floor. "I'm not important, just the boss's messenger boy."

"Ah, your so-called boss too afraid to show?"

A scowl came over the man's expression. "Watch your mouth, _rosuke_ , if you want to keep that stupid pretty face intact."

Roma made a move to step forward but Viktor held up his hand.

"Ignore it," he ordered. "Well if that's not the case, _yaposhka_ , where is he?" he asked, using his height advantage to leer down at him.

" _She_ is right here."

Everyone turned at once to look at the speaker and found themselves face to face with a very particular woman. Like the other Japanese men, she was dressed in a rather colorful jacket, emblazoned with a tiger, though underneath she seemed to be wearing an odd blue garment that Vitya vaguely recognized as a type of _yukata_. Her brown hair, dyed at the tips, was pushed away from her face with a diadem, and her ears were covered in piercings. Somehow the effect was striking and severe, especially since she was actually rather tall compared to her companions.

Viktor paused, unsure what to make of her. He looked back to judge Yuuri's expression, but as usual those calm brown eyes betrayed nothing.

"Then the upstart leader is you?" he finally asked.

"Leader, yes. Upstart, no," she said firmly, narrowing his eyes at him. "I am Katsuki Mari, the rightful heir to the Katsuki group. I believe your business is with me, Nikiforov."

* * *

 **"Filthy** ** _yaposhka!_** **Go back to where you came from, you fucking weirdo!"**

 **Yuuri shut his eyes tightly and tried to cover his head as best as he could. He whimpered as his body was kicked from all directions, loud, cruel laughter echoing in the cold air around him.**

 **"** ** _Stop now!"_** **he cried, but his accent only served to further provoke them.**

 ** _"Stop now_** **,** ** _stop!_** **" they jeered, and Yuuri groaned as a particularly vicious kick was aimed at his stomach. "Listen to him try to speak Russian, he sounds like an idiot!"**

 **"HEY!"**

 **The boys suddenly ceased their taunting and Yuuri opened one eye warily to see a familiar figure hurrying down the alley toward them.**

 **"You fucking assholes!" Viktor shouted, and Yuuri felt his heart lift at the sight of his brother.**

 **"Vitya!" he called, though his voice was lost in the commotion that followed. Though Viktor was older than the bullies, there were more of them, and it quickly devolved into a one-sided brawl that only broke after Viktor managed to draw blood from one of the boys' noses.**

 **"Run!" some of them shouted, and a second later only Yuuri and Viktor were left in the snow, the latter panting heavily, hands on his knees.**

 **"Fuck, stupid brats," he wheezed, wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. Once he'd caught his breath, he turned to look at Yuuri.**

 **"Are you okay?!" he asked, kneeling at Yuuri's side. His clear blue eyes were full of concern as his hands reached out to help Yuuri up.**

 **"Vitya..." he sniffled, clinging to Viktor's jacket. Viktor's expression softened and he reached out to gently pat Yuuri's hair.**

 **"It's alright now, I promise." He adjusted Yuuri's scarf and wiped the tears from his cheeks, looking him over for bruises and scratches. He hissed when he found a particularly ugly mark on his arm. "I'll kill 'em next time," he growled, mostly to himself. "Does it hurt anywhere, Yuratchka?"**

 **"Stomach," Yuuri grimaced. "They kick, hurt," he said in his broken Russian. He understood a lot more recently, though his vocabulary was still quite limited. Viktor carefully unbuttoned Yuuri's coat and lifted his shirt to get a quick look. The cold air on his skin made Yuuri shiver violently.**

 **"Crap, that looks bad," Viktor muttered to himself. "Can you walk?"**

 **Yuuri shook his head, feeling faint.**

 **"Okay,** ** _onii-san_** **has this," Viktor said, setting his teeth. He lifted Yuuri up over his shoulder, trying to settle his body so that his injuries weren't strained. "Does it hurt like that?" he asked, voice strained with the force of carrying Yuuri's weight.**

 **"No..."**

 **"Okay." He began to walk back the way he'd come, his feet trudging through the snow deliberately. "It's a good thing you're so small," he added, a hint of a smile in his tone. Yuuri closed his eyes, listening to the soothing sound of Viktor's breath as he slowly lost consciousness.**

* * *

 **Yuuri had to be hospitalized for a few days due to internal bleeding, and that was the last straw for Mikhail.**

 **"Fucking kids, how** ** _dare_** **they?" he growled once Yuuri was put under. He, Katerina, and Viktor were seated around the boy's hospital bed like some odd nativity painting, Viktor holding Yuuri's hand.**

 **"I think they've been bullying him all along," Viktor said, grimacing. "It's my fault for never noticing..."**

 **"It couldn't be helped, you're in a different grade," Mikhail said grudgingly. "Still, why didn't he say anything?!"**

 **"He's always been like that," Katerina said softly. "Yuuri doesn't like to be seen when he's hurting."**

 **"Idiot," Viktor mumbled. "He should just be a cute little brother and come find me when he wants to cry." He stroked the back of Yuuri's hand gently. "He doesn't have to pretend to be strong and hide it."**

 **"I don't think he's pretending," Mikhail sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Perhaps he's just not Russian enough. Yet."**

 **Katerina gave a small chuckle. "Dostoevsky was right; Russians truly are overwhelmingly passionate, to a fault."**

 **"Hmph, passion is important for the family business," Mikhail scoffed. "The Bratva relies on the bonds we make with each other, and the emotions that forge those bonds. That's what it means to be brothers. Yuratchka will have to learn that soon enough, if he's to take his place in the ranks. You too, Vitya."**

 **"Yes, Father..."**

 **"In the meantime, I'll be having a** ** _talk_** **with the school and the parents involved in this incident," his father said sharply. "No one touches my sons."**

* * *

"Katsuki... Mari?" Viktor repeated, completely at a loss. Several of the Russians murmured among themselves, and Yuuri made an odd movement, though he didn't step from his spot. "We were told the Katsuki group had no heir; that an upstart had taken control in the past year," he said carefully.

"Ha! I'm sure you would have loved that to be true, Nikiforov," she spat. "I know your people have been wanting to take control of my group for years. You'd dishonor our fathers' ties if it meant you could extend your reach into Japan."

"O- _Our_ fathers?!"

"Don't pretend to be shocked," she said angrily. "Katsuki Toshiya and Mikhail Nikiforov were close, when they were alive. I'm sure you were told that; why else come after us, _pakhan?"_

Viktor groaned and pressed a hand to his face. "Why do these things always turn out more complicated than we plan?" he muttered. He brushed the hair from his eyes, giving Mari a calculating look. "Well, you're right, we're here because of the ties between my father and Katsuki Toshiya, but not for the reasons you think, _Ane-ue."_

She seemed shocked that he knew the term used to refer to female leaders in the yakuza.

"You speak Japanese?!"

"Poorly," Viktor grinned. "And there's one other misunderstanding here," he continued. "I'm not the _pakhan._

"What?"

Yuuri put a hand on Viktor's shoulder. "That's enough, Vitya. I'll take it from here." He stepped forward, pulling off his glasses. "I wasn't aware that Katsuki Toshiya had a daughter," he said.

"A daughter and a son, by different mothers," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm the only one who survived the incident that killed him and my younger brother, because I wasn't taken into the main family. And _you_ are?"

"Ah, pardon," Yuuri said, nodding thoughtfully. "I am Yuuri Nikiforov, the current head of the Nikiforov _Bratva,_ though I believe you might know me by another name, _Ane-ue._ _"_

Something about Katsuki Mari's expression as Yuuri spoke made Viktor smile.

 _Ah, that look when they're caught off guard is identical,_ he thought, recognizing the wide-eyed look of disbelief and the way her mouth fell open. _Though I haven't seen it on Yuuri's face for a while._

He reached into his pocket for his gun and clicked the safety back on. They wouldn't be needing weapons now.

 _The last thing we expected to find was a sister, but they do look rather alike, don't they?_ Viktor thought to himself, unable to hide his amusement. The looks on the Katsuki men's faces were priceless. _This should be a lot easier now._

* * *

 **"Vitya..."**

 **"Hmm?"**

 **Yuuri had been brought home a few days later, though he hadn't been allowed to leave his bed. Viktor had resolved to keep him company while he recovered, reading to him and playing simple word games to keep him entertained. He had long since grown used to doting on Yuuri, and the younger boy was so quiet and well-mannered that it was rare to see them fight.**

 **"What** ** _bratva_** **?" he asked, his brown eyes blinking curiously.**

 **"Bratva?"**

 **"Papa say," he explained. "Lots."**

 **"Ah... hmmmm," Viktor mused for a moment, trying to think of how to explain the word. "Bratva is... me and Yuuri," he finally said.**

 **"Vitya and Yuuri?"**

 **"Mmm. I'm your** ** _onii-san_** **, right?" Yuuri nodded. "Well, that's** ** _bratva._** **Siblings."**

 **"Oh." Yuuri looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Papa have lots** ** _."_**

 **It was such a cute statement that Viktor burst into laughter. "No, no, Yuuri! Bratva as brothers is different from** ** _the_** **Bratva!** **That's the family... You know, the** ** _family_** **."**

 **Yuuri frowned, obviously trying to work out what Viktor was saying. "Vitya no sense."**

 **"I guess not, huh," Viktor mused. "Well, I'm sure you'll understand, sooner or later. But first, let's get your Russian up to par, yes?"**

* * *

 **Notes:**

From here on, bolded portions take place in the past and will set up the backstory for how Yuuri and Vitya got to where they are now. As to their goal in Hasetsu, it will make more sense in the next chapter.

My version of this AU is kinda different from the original, but I hope I'm able to make it justice. Please let me know what you thought at the end!

 **Translation notes:**

1\. "Rosuke" and "yaposhka" are both derogatory racial slurs to refer to Russians and Japanese in the opposite language, respectively. They are the mafia, after all.

2\. The "Pakhan" is the leader of a Russian mafia group. The "godfather," so to speak.

3\. "Ane-ue" is a very respectful term for "older sister." Women in positions of power in the yakuza are sometimes called this, though Yuuri is also using it sarcastically because Mari is his blood related sister.

4\. "Bratva" means brothers, but is also used to refer to the mafia.


	3. Hasetsu

It turned out that Katsuki Mari was not the type of person to believe a claim without proof.

"My brother died almost twenty years ago," she snarled. To everyone's horror, she walked up to him and poked Yuuri hard in the chest, her head a good foot or so taller than his. "How dare you impersonate him?!"

"Bitch!" one of the Russians called, but Yuuri merely held up his hand.

"Peace, Alexei," he said firmly in Russian. "She's a boss, same as me; show her some respect."

Mari's glared at him. "Quit talking among yourselves, I'm speaking to _you_ , you... you fucking creep! I don't know who you _really_ are, but you're no Japanese, strutting around with these _rosuke_. You might look like one of us, but clearly you're just a filthy Russian on the inside, despicable and dishonorable to the core."

Yuuri stared up at her, and Viktor recognized an angry glint in his eyes.

 _Oh dear, this isn't going as smoothly as I hoped,_ he thought, tapping his finger against his cheek. _Now what, Yuratchka?_

 _"Ane-ue_ , I will not tolerate insults toward my family," he said coldly. "Whether or not you believe me, I am still the _pakhan_ of the Nikiforov clan and I will not hesitate to protect my men, even at the cost of violence. Blood sister or not."

 _You idiot!_ Viktor groaned. _This is no time to provoke her!_

She bristled, grabbing Yuuri by the collar.

"I don't know what kind of traditions you fucking Russians have, but right now you are standing in _my_ country, and in _my_ inn. You are threatening me under my own roof, and disrespecting my brother, who died as a small child! I'll have your head, asshole!"

Viktor had half a second to react. He ripped the gun from his pocket and trained it at her face just as she slammed the barrel of her own to Yuuri's temple. The sound of countless guns clicking off their safeties echoed in the sudden silence, and everyone seemed to freeze. A cold sweat broke out on Viktor's brow.

 _Fuck, are we dead?_

Nearly all the Japanese guns were trained on Yuuri or himself, and while he wasn't afraid to die, Vitya couldn't bear the thought of losing Yuuri now, after all they'd done to get here. Even with the _bratva_ behind them, Yuuri would almost certainly be killed before his men could shoot Mari and her group down.

 _Yuuri...!_

The silence wore on, the air thick with fear and anger. It was Yuuri who finally spoke up.

"Vitya, my passport," he said, softly.

"Wh-what?!" Viktor croaked, his voice cracking with barely contained panic.

"My passport," Yuuri repeated.

"What the- _what do you mean, your passport?!"_

"Show it to her." His eyes slid back toward Mari. "It isn't worth much, since government records can be faked, but I renewed mine when I was still underage; the picture is from four years ago. I don't know if that'll convince you, but it might be enough for you to consider getting a DNA test. Of course, that's only if you'll hold off on shooting me for the time being, _Ane-ue."_ Even with a gun to his head, his tone was measured; only Vitya seemed to notice the slight twitch of his hand, his thumb pressed against the ring on his fourth finger.

Mari looked up at Viktor, eyes cold and determined. "Don't you dare move a muscle, filthy _rosuke,_ or I'll put a bullet in your boss' head."

"Yu-Yuuri!"

"Boss!"

"Stay calm, all of you," Yuuri said. "Katsuki Mari, if you prefer my men not to move, I will allow you to retrieve the documents yourselves. I have no wish to die here today, or to shed blood if we can avoid it."

"I don't trust you," she hissed, grinding the barrel into his temple. Viktor's hands began to shake.

"You don't have to," Yuuri declared clearly. "But if I do turn out to be the brother I claim I am, won't you regret shooting me before giving me a chance to prove my identity?"

She hesitated.

"Only Nikiforov moves," she insisted. "Order him to put down his gun slowly before he hands over the documents."

"You heard her, Vitya."

"What the fuck are you _talking_ about?! _I'm not taking my aim off her! YOU'LL BE SHOT, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"_

"Vitya!" Yuuri's voice took on a hard edge, but his expression softened a moment later. "Breathe. This isn't the first time I've been at gunpoint and it won't be the last. I promise, I won't die here, _zolotse moyo_."

The endearment startled Viktor. He had never used it in front of anyone else, and the way he spoke the words now, with finality, sent a shock of pure terror through him.

 _Oh god. He's saying goodbye._

* * *

 **Even after Yuuri recovered, things didn't improve for him at school. Vitya tried his best to intercede whenever he caught kids teasing him in the schoolyard, but being four years older, he couldn't watch over him throughout the day. Mikhail's angry threats toward the school lessened the incidents of physical violence, but children always found ways to be cruel, and Yuuri was such a withdrawn and docile child that he made for an easy target.**

 **"Yuratchka, don't let them be mean to you," he insisted, holding Yuuri's small hands tightly outside the school gate. "If they say something, tell someone. Yell at them. You can even hit them, if you need to; Father will take care of it if you do. Don't just stay quiet, okay?"**

 **"Is not so bad," Yuuri mumbled into his scarf, his breath rising in small clouds as he spoke. "Yuuri can take."**

 **"Yuuri, I know you cry when you think no one is looking," Viktor said firmly. "Why don't you tell someone when they're teasing you?"**

 **"Don't want make trouble..."**

 **Viktor sighed. "You're so stubborn sometimes..." He brushed his hair out of his eyes and looked up, thinking. "Hmm, alright, how about this? I promised to protect you, right?"**

 **Yuuri nodded.**

 **"Well, for that to work, you have to rely on me. So I want you to promise, whenever you're in trouble, call for me. If you can do that, I'll come flying right away, no matter where you are. Promise?" He extended his little finger toward him gently. Yuuri hesitated.**

 **"Really?"**

 **"Of course," Vitya said, smiling. "I'm your brother, aren't I?"**

 **Yuuri's face lit up.**

 **"Mm," he said.** ** _"Yakusoku,"_** **he said, and though Viktor didn't know what it meant, he at least understood the meaning of their fingers linking together.**

* * *

Viktor could hardly keep his hands still as he slowly lowered his gun to the floor.

 _Calm down, Vitya. You've been in worse situations, and so has Yuuri. We've always made it out alive, always found a way out. Don't panic._

There were any number of times that Viktor could recall having been at gunpoint in his life. There was always the surge of adrenaline at finding oneself face to face with death, of course, but for the most part, it was an expected predicament when one was involved in the _bratva_.

 _Right, if we die, we die, and it's all over. That's how it's always been, nothing more, nothing less._

The image of Yuuri lying wide eyed in a pool of his own blood suddenly flashed in his mind, and he thought he might be sick.

 _Breathe!_

He set the gun down and slowly backed away, both hands up in the air. Sweat was trickling down the side of his face, his hair sticking uncomfortably to the back of his neck.

"Now what, _Ane-ue?"_ he asked, aware that his voice sounded higher than normal. "The documents are in my breast pocket, I'd have to reach in to get them."

Mari jerked her head at one of her underlings, who hurried forward and frisked him. Vitya could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

"Found 'em," the man said gruffly, pulling out a set of papers from Viktor's pocket. Among them was his own passport and a few other important documents he carried with him at all times. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, determined not to say anything that might provoke Mari further.

"Show them to me," she said firmly, not taking her eyes off Yuuri. She and the underling switched places, and she licked her thumb as she began to rummage through the papers.

"Russian passport for one Viktor Nikiforov," she recited as she opened the first booklet. "Twenty seven years old, male, Russian gibberish." She tossed it at Vitya's feet and moved on. "Letter of introduction to a certain Mr. Ishida..." She raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you can read this, _rosuke_. It's full of kanji."

"I'd like to be insulted, but in truth I'm just a bookkeeper," he said, his tone much cooler than he actually felt. "A glorified secretary, if you will."

"Hmph, clearly," she snorted, leafing through a few more letters and tossing them as she went. She was about to throw another one down when she paused and frowned. "This one's all in Russian," she said, mostly to herself. "Kazuha, translate for me." A man standing at the back came forward, taking the document from her hands.

"It's a marriage registration," he said a moment later in measured but fairly clear English.

"Eh?"

"Dated a month ago," he continued, scanning the page. "Between Viktor Nikiforov and-" he stopped, brow furrowed.

"What? Why'd you stop?" she asked impatiently. He remained silent, staring at the paper as though he could bore holes through it. "Oh for fuck's sake, who cares if he's married!" she finally said, snatching the registration back from him. She made to throw it on the pile but the man stopped her.

"Hold on, _Ane-ue!"_ he shouted. "I think the other party says 'Katsuki!'"

She froze.

"What?"

"I'm not sure, it's spelled in Russian so it's a bit odd, but the first name is definitely 'Yuri'."

She looked down at the document. "Where does it say?" she asked.

"Here," he pointed out for her. "It says Yuri Katsuki-Nikiforov."

"Katsuki-Nikiforov? As in... he took the other name after getting married?"

"No, ma'am. His name was already Nikiforov."

She immediately tore through the last of the documents in her hand until she found what she was looking for. She opened the little booklet and scanned the page with Yuuri's information, eyes fierce.

"Yuri Katsuki-Nikiforov. Born November 29th... 23 years ago." She looked up at him, her expression strange. Viktor noticed that there seemed to be an amused glint in Yuuri's eye, and some of the tension he'd been holding in began to dissipate.

 _If he can look that relaxed, I think we're gonna make it._

"This picture, you said it was from four years ago?" Mari asked. Yuuri shrugged.

"More or less."

"You look completely different."

"I cleaned up a bit as I got older."

She chewed her lip pensively.

"Is this faked?"

"No, but like I said, talk is cheap when it comes to things like this. I didn't know Vitya was carrying that other thing around though, if it's worth anything."

He gave Viktor a long, meaningful glance, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Vitya felt his cheeks grow a bit warm. _So I like to carry a copy around with me_ , _sue me. I'm a romantic, okay?_

"Why Katsuki-Nikiforov?"

"I was adopted," he explained. "Mikhail Nikiforov smuggled me into Russia after the incident that killed my father. He pulled some strings and got me naturalized. In Russia, I am the legal son of the Nikiforov clan."

Mari scratched her head and let out a long sigh. "Fine. Let him go," she said, and the man holding Yuuri put down his gun. Everyone else in the room followed suit. "I'm still doing a DNA test," she warned, hand on her hip as she handed him his passport.

"Of course, _ane-ue,"_ he smiled.

"And I have questions for you. _And_ for your wife over there," she said, jutting her thumb at Viktor.

"I'll answer any questions you have, if you'll answer some of mine."

"Fine, fine, whatever. Jirou, Takeda," she barked over her shoulder.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Prepare the banquet room for our guests. And bring the good sake, none of that cheap corner store crap."

"Yes, immediately!"

She gestured for Vitya and Yuuri to follow her. "Come, we'll talk inside. Your men can cozy up wherever they like, s'long as they don't trash the place."

"We're the mafia, not a street gang," Yuuri said. "All the men here are in my inner circle. We Russians have manners, sister."

"Don't call me that until the DNA results come back positive," she said sharply. "Now hurry up, I don't have all day."

"Hold on a moment." Mari turned to glare at him. Clearly, she was not used to being interrupted. "The registration. I think Vitya would appreciate it if you gave it back," he said smoothly, holding a hand out for it. She stared at it blankly for a second.

"Oh, right." She held out the paper and Yuuri took it, folding it deliberately in two before handing it back to Viktor. "Keep it close to your heart, hmm?" he teased in Russian as Viktor accepted it and slid it back into his breast pocket.

"As always," Viktor replied evenly, determined not to show how shaken he still was by the whole incident. Yuuri smiled, a warm, almost innocent smile, and Viktor felt his heart ache.

 _Fuck. I thought I already had a bad case of it, so I never imagined getting married would make any difference. This idiot will be the death of me, literally._

* * *

 **When Viktor turned twelve, he and Yuuri were summoned to their father's office.**

 **"You look nervous, Vitya," Yuuri said softly as they waited outside the imposing wooden doors, fidgeting with their clothes.**

 **"So do you, Yuuri," Viktor muttered under his breath. "Quit moving so much, it's freaking me out."**

 **"I can't help it, I've never been in there."**

 **"Neither have I!"**

 **"Shh!"**

 **"Don't shh me, you little-"**

 **The door suddenly swung open, and both boys straightened immediately.**

 **"The** ** _pakhan_** **will see you now," a large man with beady black eyes said. Though he was wearing a suit, he had tattoos on his hands and cheek, making him look far more intimidating than Vitya knew he was. As they passed him, he winked at them. Viktor tried to smile in return but it only came out as a grimace.**

 **Mikhail was sitting at his desk, a large, ornate wooden piece that wouldn't have looked out of place in a castle. The rest of the furniture seemed to be much less fanciful, which only made the desk stick out like a sore thumb.**

 **"Vitya, Yuratchka," he acknowledged once they were standing in front of him. "Dmitri, please leave us."**

 **"Yes, boss," the man at the door said. Once the door clicked behind him, Mikhail gave both of his sons an appraising look.**

 **"You look good in those," he finally said, nodding at their suits. "I'll have to compliment the tailor." Vitya couldn't help feeling a surge of pride.**

 **"It's uncomfortable," Yuuri said quietly. Mikhail laughed.**

 **"Of course it is!" he guffawed, his voice booming and echoing off the walls. "We don't dress that way for comfort, Yuratchka."**

 **"We?" Viktor asked eagerly. "Does this mean we're part of the family now?"**

 **Mikhail raised an eyebrow. "Being part of the family isn't a game, Viktor."**

 **"I... I know that..."**

 **"No, you don't. Neither of you does. You're only boys."**

 **"I'm twelve now!" Vitya insisted. Mikhail grinned.**

 **"A boy, who happens to have a new suit and tie."**

 **Viktor pouted, and Yuuri giggled.**

 **"Before you can take your place in the family, you have a lot to learn," Mikhail said. "And** ** _because_** **you're now twelve, I think it's time to start teaching you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small booklets. He stood up and went around the desk to hand one to Yuuri and one to Viktor. "Passports," he explained. "One for each of you."**

 **Vitya opened his to find a picture of himself next to his personal information. He frowned and opened his mouth to ask a question, but Mikhail's eyes were on Yuuri, not him.**

 **He seemed transfixed, unable to look away from the open booklet, and as Viktor watched, a tear splashed onto the lenses of his glasses.**

 **"Yu-Yuuri?" he asked, concerned. Yuuri merely shook his head.**

 **"I had it made official, you see," Mikhail said softly. "I meant to do it years ago, but the circumstances made it difficult. The request only just went through this year."**

 **"What are-" Victor began, but he was interrupted by Yuuri, who began to cry in earnest.**

 **"Father!" he said, and threw himself into Mikhail's arms. The passport fell from his grip and Viktor bent to pick it up.**

 **He opened it to see Yuuri's round, shy face peeking nervously from behind his glasses. Next to the photograph, his name was labelled as 'Yuri Katsuki-Nikiforov.'**

 _ **Yuuri!**_

 **Viktor was so happy he hardly realized he was crying too.**

* * *

"I see. You came to take control of the group when you heard there was a new, illegitimate head."

"We assumed the new leader was an upstart, some low ranking thug who was taking advantage of the situation," Yuuri said, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray. "But there was always a chance that they would know about the incident eighteen years ago. For all we knew, they might have been directly connected to it."

"And what were you planning to do if they had?" Mari asked, arms crossed on the other side of the low table.

"Rip out their fingernails one by one until we got all the information we needed," he said lazily.

She have a loud laugh. "Ha! Messy, but effective, I'll give you that." She snapped her fingers and one of her men hurried forward to refill her cup of sake. "I suppose if it had just been some thug, you would have overthrown him and taken control yourself?"

"Perhaps," Yuuri shrugged. Viktor watched as he took a slow, deliberate drag from his position against the screen door. Mari caught him staring and grinned.

"You _can_ sit down, you know, brother-in-law," she said.

"No thank you," he said cheerfully. "I like to _watch_ ," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching as Yuuri gave him a swift side-eyed glance.

"I thought you said not to call you 'sister' until the DNA test comes back," Yuuri said, turning his attention back to the yakuza leader.

"It won't come back until tomorrow," she said, draining her cup in one go. "Besides, you look different now, but that picture of you from four years ago looks a lot like the only photograph I have of my little brother."

"Funnily enough, I had no idea I even had an older sister."

"Not a lot of people did," she said thoughtfully. "I was illegitimate. My mother was a mistress, a girl who worked at one of Hasetsu's hot springs. This place, to be exact." She pointed up at the ceiling. "The Katsuki group used this inn for conducting a lot of their business when she was young. Her father owned this place, and at some point she met Toshiya, my father. He was already married by then, though his son wasn't born until several years later. I don't think he and his wife got along so well, at first. It was an arranged marriage between two yakuza families."

"Interesting."

"After I was born, my mother raised me by herself. She didn't want me to get involved with the Katsukis too much, though I think my father suspected I was his kid. He came around to ask my mother to move in with him not long after his wife died; I think it was his way of trying to look out for us. My mom was too afraid to get involved with the yakuza, so she turned him down. He came by every year for my birthday after that, until he died."

"How did you get involved with the Katsuki group after that?" Yuuri asked, propping his elbow on the table.

"They came looking for me, round the time I turned sixteen," she said. "I don't know what the Russian mafia is like, but in Japan, at least, the yakuza is pretty loyal. Mind, the group at that point was nearly non-existent. As an organization, we were all but gone. The incident took out all the top brass, and all the grunts were kind of scattered. A couple of other families began to try to encroach on our territories, and some of the members from the old days didn't like that. So they all got together and someone remembered hearing about me, and well, there you are. I didn't succeed until last year, though; you don't just become a yakuza boss from one day to another, you know?"

"Of course," Yuuri said, his tone cold. Vitya clenched his fist tightly, his fingernails digging into his palm.

* * *

 **Viktor didn't consider what it meant when his father gave him a passport until Mikhail asked Yuuri to step out so he and Vitya could talk alone.**

 **"What did you want to speak to me about, Father?" he asked, frowning. He couldn't understand why Yuuri had been sent away after being given something so precious.**

 **Mikhail gave him a thoughtful look, and Vitya was suddenly hit by a sense of foreboding.**

 **"Vitya... in one month's time, I'm sending you to America," he said suddenly.**

 **"Wh-what?"**

 **Mikhail sighed, rubbing his temples. "I got you a passport for a reason," he said. "You're twelve years old now, and it's time you started preparing for your future."**

 **"But what does that have to do with-"**

 **"In order to become a** ** _pakhan_** **, you will have to learn things that you can only understand from experience. You'll have to prove yourself to the men who will put down their lives for you."**

 **"Yes, but why America?! Why aren't you going to teach me?!"**

 **"Because of Yuuri," Mikhail said simply.**

 **Viktor froze, completely nonplussed.**

 **"What?"**

 **"Yuuri is the heir to the Katsuki group. I promised Toshiya that if I ever took in his heirs, that I would raise them to take his place in Japan. However, when Toshiya died, his group was all but destroyed, and the culprit behind the incident that killed him was never found. If Yuuri is to rebuild his father's group, he'll need to begin from the bottom up, and he'll need to face the past we've been raising him to forget." Mikhail's eyes held Viktors firmly as he spoke. "As a father, I want nothing more than for my sons to grow up in safety and happiness. But as a** ** _pakhan_** **, I have a responsibility to my brothers, to ensure their futures. I also bear the responsibility of raising Yuuri into someone who can bear Toshiya's legacy. If things continue as they are now, he never will."**

 **"What do you mean?!"**

 **"It's you, Vitya," Mikhail said firmly. "When I brought Yuuri here, I wanted you two to become brothers with a strong link, so that one day you could support each other and lead the Nikiforov and Katsuki clans together. I knew he would be vulnerable, after what he'd been through, but I miscalculated the effect you would have on him. I know you love Yuratchka, and you care about him very much, but Yuuri will never learn to stand on his own two feet if you don't allow him to stumble first. He depends on you far too much as things are now." He adjusted his sleeves, and Viktor thought that he looked as though he was preparing to say something difficult. "So I've changed my plans. Vitya, I want you to study in America until you've graduated. You have an uncle in New York who runs a branch of the family there; he will teach you the things you'll need to take my place when you return. As for Yuuri, he will stay here and train with me, in order to become your right hand man."**

 **"But you just said he would take over the Katsuki group!"**

 **"And he will. But doing so will require a lot of nerve and strength, two things that he doesn't have yet. And he will need connections and power, which he won't possess unless he has powerful ties to the Nikiforov clan. Being my adopted son isn't enough, and being your brother isn't enough. Yuuri needs to become a man who can inspire others, and who understands the mafia inside and out. For that, he needs to work hard and carve a place for himself here. It will be terribly difficult. He is Japanese, and the Russians won't take kindly to him being involved in the** ** _bratva_** **unless he can prove he has earned it. For that, he needs to know how to fight. And in order to fight, Vitya, he needs to learn that you won't always be there to protect him. I'm sorry."**

* * *

Viktor had nearly fallen asleep when Yuuri suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Vitya!" he cried, his voice strained with fear. Vitya immediately threw back the covers, recognizing the signs.

"Yuuri, calm down," he said, taking Yuuri by the wrists. Even in the darkness of the room Mari had provided for them, he could make out Yuuri's eyes, glazed over and frantic, staring but unable to see anything. "Everything is fine, we're all fine."

"I can't see you, I can't-!"

"Breathe slowly," Viktor said soothingly, pulling him into an embrace. "I'm right here, I promise I'm right here." Yuuri's body was trembling in his grasp, his skin clammy and cold to the touch.

"Don't go, Vitya, please, don't!" he said, voice trembling. "Don't leave me behind!"

"I'm not going anywhere, Yuratchka. I'm right here, and I will always be here," Viktor said, kissing Yuuri's forehead gently. Slowly, the fit seemed to subside and Yuuri's breathing evened out as he relaxed in Viktor's arms.

"Sorry," he finally muttered, his cheek pressed to Vitya's shoulder.

"Don't apologize. You couldn't help it."

"I woke you."

"I wasn't asleep yet, don't worry about it."

"Still, I'm sorry..."

"How many times do I have to tell you it's alright?" Viktor said, taking Yuuri's chin gently. "Wake me as many times as you want, for whatever reason you want," he said, unable to stop himself from grinning.

To his relief, Yuuri snorted. "You're insufferable sometimes."

"There we go, that's more like you," he chuckled, kissing his nose.

"You know full well you're going to piss me off and make me do something in retaliation, right?"

"What can I say? I'm a masochist," Vitya said brightly. As he expected, Yuuri grabbed his wrist and pushed him down onto the mattress.

"You're about to regret saying that _,_ " he murmured, his breath hot in Victor's ear.

"I never regret anything that has to do with you, Yuuri."

* * *

 **Notes:**

*Cough*

MOVING ON.

I'm honestly really shocked and happy at how popular this fic has gotten?! I've never gotten anywhere near these kinds of numbers before, and I could drop dead happily at the feedback I've been getting. Hearing back from you guys makes me wanna write more, so thanks so much for reading my humble little fic!

 **Translation Notes:**

 _Zolotse Moyo:_ A Russian endearment. Sort of like calling someone "love" or "sweetheart".

 _Yakosoku:_ Promise.

The inner circle: The Russian Bratva has several tiers of command. Under the Pakhan are several groups, one of which is known as the sovietnik. It consists of the most trusted members of the group, which serve as the boss' counselors. The men who came with Yuuri and Vitya are all part of the Nikiforov sovietnik.


	4. Ties

The sun filtered through the blinds, the light stirring Viktor awake as it traveled slowly up his face. He blinked sleepily and shied away from the brightness, burying his face in Yuuri's soft hair. It smelled faintly of sweat, with a trace of tobacco, and Vitya sighed contentedly, enjoying the familiar, earthy scent.

"Mm, Vitya?" Yuuri murmured, turning back toward him slightly. Viktor pulled him in close, his chest pressed to Yuuri's warm back.

"Not awake yet," he said sleepily. Yuuri yawned and took Vitya's hand, gently intertwining their fingers together.

"What time is it?"

"Dunno."

"Hasn't Petya come by yet?"

Viktor made an indignant noise.

"Yuuri... I can't believe you're thinking of someone else while I'm right here," he complained, his tone petulant. Yuuri chuckled.

"Were you always the jealous type, Vitya?" he asked, turning to face him. His eyes were glinting playfully.

"Only when it comes to you, _zolotse moyo_." He leaned in to kiss him, his thumb brushing against Yuuri's cheek. Yuuri reached up, his fingers running through Viktor's hair gently. It was different from the caresses of the night before, sweet and relaxed, and as Viktor pressed his lips against the side of Yuuri's neck, he couldn't help it; he laughed.

"Huh? Why are you laughing?" Yuuri asked, looking up at Vitya as he pulled away, his cheeks flushed.

"No, well... sometimes you're just so cute and innocent," Viktor teased, grinning. "It's like you're a completely different person."

"I can't help being myself," Yuuri muttered.

"I know. It's just another thing that I love about you, Yuratchka."

"... You damn sweet talker." He wrapped his arms around Vitya's neck for another kiss.

The moment was ruined a second later.

"Boss! The Katsuki woman wants to see you!" Petya's voice called, followed by a series of sharp knocks.

"Ugh, seriously?!" Vitya groaned. "That idiot, no sense of timing, as usual..." He pulled away, disappointed.

"Thank you, Petya," Yuuri replied loudly as he sat up, ignoring Viktor's comment. Vitya could tell from the serious look on his _pakhan's_ face that it was time to get to work.

* * *

They emerged about ten minutes later, fully dressed, to find Petya standing guard just outside the door.

"Morning, boss," Petya said cheerfully, hands in his pockets. Red haired and green eyed, Pyotr Nikitovich was one of Viktor's direct subordinates. He was short and stocky, with a horizontal scar over the bridge of his nose; according to his story, he'd gotten it in a knife fight during his youth. At 30, he was one of the older members in the inner circle, though his easygoing nature and freely given smiles endeared him to everyone, making him rather dangerous.

"For the last time, Petya, when are you going to learn some respect?" Vitya said. He was sulking somewhat at having been interrupted.

"Huh? I said good morning, didn't I?" Petya said, frowning in genuine confusion. Viktor sighed.

"You're lucky you're such a good bodyguard, or you'd have lost a limb by now," he said pointedly. Petya grinned.

"Well seeing as I haven't yet, I don't think _Papa_ minds too much if I forget formalities from time to time, do you, boss?"

"As long as you do your job, it doesn't matter," Yuuri said simply. "I don't care." He made his way down the hall without another word, Viktor and Petya just behind.

"See, captain? No big deal."

"I'm not your captain, I'm your _commander_ ," Vitya snapped. "And just because the _pakhan_ doesn't mind if you show proper respect, it doesn't mean you _shouldn't_. You've been in the ranks far too long to say it's just forgetfulness. Watch your tongue, or else."

"Yeesh, someone clearly didn't get any last night," Petya muttered. Viktor smacked him over the head none too gently. "Ow!"

"I have no idea what you did this time, Petya, but I'm absolutely certain you deserved it." Roma joined them from his post down the hall, bowing low to his superiors. "Morning, commander. Good morning, boss," he said.

"Morning, Roma," Viktor said.

"I didn't do anything!" Petya complained.

"Ha! You get away with murder compared to the rest of us, you fucking liar," Roma spat. "Honestly, how you're still alive is beyond me."

"I'm a bodyguard. Survival and protection are what I do," Petya said. "Speaking of which, weren't you and Alyosha supposed to have some info for us today?"

"Right, what did you find?" Viktor asked. Roma straightened and cleared his throat.

"We gathered some local intel about Katsuki Mari and the incident eighteen years ago. Everything she said checks out."

"And about the incident itself?" Yuuri asked, pausing at the door to the banquet hall.

"Only some old articles we couldn't read. Alyosha is running them through a translation module."

"Tell him not to bother, I've already read everything published about that night," he said, and Viktor recognized the cold look that he got whenever the subject of Toshiya's death was brought up.

"Y-Yes, boss."

* * *

 **The drive to the airport was a quiet one. Vitya wasn't sure how to feel, his throat dry as the car crossed through the city he'd lived in his whole life. In the seat next to him, Yuuri was sniffling, his small hand gripping onto Viktor's fingers desperately. Katerina kept looking back in the mirror at them, her face lined with worry.**

 **"Yuratchka, it's not goodbye forever," she ventured reassuringly. Yuuri had been crying for days; neither Vitya nor Mikhail had had the heart to tell him the truth until just before he left, but when they did, the boy had become inconsolable. He's been so upset that he wouldn't speak to anyone, and even when Viktor let him sleep in his bed for the last few days, he never spoke a word and merely clung onto his brother with all his strength.**

 **"Leave him be, Katya," Mikhail said softly from the driver's seat. "He should express himself however he needs to. Real strength comes from facing your pain, not hiding it away."**

 **"Yes, but it will be a long time before we'll see Vitya again. Don't you want to smile with him a little longer, Yuuri?"**

 **Yuuri didn't make any move to show that he'd heard her, but Viktor felt his hand tighten around his own slightly.**

 **"I'll come back before you know it," he said, trying to keep a cheerful note in his tone. In truth, he wasn't sure when he would be allowed to return, if at all. His father could be very harsh, when he wanted to be.**

 **Still, Yuuri didn't speak a word, not even when they finally arrived at the airport and began unloading Vitya's luggage. As the trunk was emptied, Viktor's heart seemed to beat faster; it was true that he was sad to be leaving his family behind and nervous at going somewhere new by himself, but somewhere deep inside, Vitya was a little excited at the idea of going to America. It was hard not to be; he was only twelve, but he felt old enough now to go on an adventure, like the ones young people always seemed to have in the books he read to Yuuri. He had never been the kind of boy to sulk for long periods of time either. He was restless by nature, and he was eager to begin the training that would eventually allow him to take his father's place.**

 **"Viktor, let's go."**

 **He blinked and realized the luggage had already been carried away by some of his father's men. Katerina and Mikhail began walking toward the terminal, and Vitya had to half-drag Yuuri forward. He was dragging his feet, his eyes staring blankly at the asphalt.**

 **"I'll call you, every day if you want," he whispered out of his father's earshot. Yuuri's eyes shot up hopefully.**

 **"Really?" he asked, his voice hoarse from lack of use.**

 **"I'm not supposed to, but I'll try to figure out a way to do it."**

 **Yuuri didn't say anything more, but he seemed a bit more cheerful as they made their way through the terminal. It was only once they reached security that it really hit Vitya that it was time to say goodbye.**

 **"We can't go past this point with you, Vitya," Mikhail said, bending down to embrace his son. "Be good, don't cause your Uncle Valya any trouble."**

 **"I won't," Vitya said quietly.**

 **"I have something for you, Vitya," his mother said, a sad smile on her face. From somewhere in her coat she produced a small, fluffy puppy, fast asleep.**

 **"Wow, I can have it?!" he asked delightedly as she handed the dog over. "How did you carry it this whole time?!"**

 **"That's a secret," she winked. Her blue eyes sparkled in the morning light, and Viktor suddenly felt his throat tighten. "His name is Makkachin, and he'll keep you company in America. Take good care of him." She knelt down and hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek. "** ** _Dosvidanya,_** **Vitya. I love you."**

 ** _"Dosvidanya,_** **mama... I love you too," he said, his voice breaking as tears started to flow down his cheeks.**

 **Yuuri was last. Katerina nudged him forward, but he seemed frozen in place, unable to look at Viktor directly.**

 **"** ** _Dosvidanya,_** **Yuuri," he said, stroking his brother's soft hair with a gentle hand. Yuuri didn't make a move to say anything, or even to hug him goodbye. "Be good, okay?" He pulled his hand away and moved toward the line. It was only a minute or two later, as he crossed the security point, that a sudden cry made him turn back.**

 **"Vitya! Vitya, don't go!" Yuuri cried, and Viktor saw that Mikhail was holding him by the hand, preventing him from running to his brother. "Come back, come back!"**

 **"Yuuri, that's enough!" Mikhail shouted, but Yuuri was frantic, fighting his father with every ounce of strength his tiny body could muster.**

 ** _"Vitya!"_**

 **Viktor meant to call back. He meant to at least wave and tell his brother that he loved him too, and that he would miss him. But he was jostled forward by the line, his hands occupied with holding on to the puppy, and before he knew it he'd crossed out of view. The last he saw of Yuuri, his brother of three years, was a boy with glasses askew, his cheeks wet, his brown eyes unable to comprehend that Vitya could leave him.**

 **The next time he saw those eyes, they had long since come to accept that truth.**

* * *

"The DNA results came in," Mari said without prompting, a strange looking pipe in her mouth. Yuuri raised an eyebrow and sat on the floor opposite her.

"And?"

She rested her cheek on her palm, staring at him with fierce concentration.

" _Ane-ue?"_

She grunted. "With those glasses on, you look more like Father than you did yesterday," she said reluctantly, blowing out a ring of smoke. To Viktor's surprise, Yuuri laughed.

"Not very honest, are you, sister?"

"I dunno what you're talking about," she huffed, but there was a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. "I suppose I should apologize for almost shooting you yesterday."

"I can tell you won't, though," he said, pulling out a cigarette. Viktor leaned in to light it for him.

"Can you blame me? I thought you were dead. They found a child's body, you know."

"I know. It was too damaged to get any good identification off it," Yuuri said, inhaling deeply as he put the cigarette to his lips.

"Whose was it?"

"Beats me. I was only a child myself."

The brother and sister shared a moment of silence.

"I suppose there's another reason you came back, other than to take over the Katsuki group," she finally said, tapping her pipe against her ashtray. "You won't be getting that back, by the way," she said sharply. "Even if you were the heir, I'm still the eldest and I've been rebuilding the group from scratch. This isn't Father's group anymore."

"Don't worry, I mean for you to have it," Yuuri said, brushing the hair from his face absentmindedly. Viktor found his gaze lingering over those familiar fingertips, imagining kissing them one by one.

 _Not now,_ he chided himself. _Now is not the time to daydream._

"Didn't you want control of the group?" Mari asked.

"No. That was my father's ambition. Not mine," Yuuri said, his voice cold. He didn't specify which father he was talking about. "Now that I know you're here, and that you really are my sister, you're free to do as you like."

She gave him a distrustful glance. "You're not going to propose an alliance or a coalition?"

"Why should I? If you want to, that's another story, but like you said, it's not Father's group anymore. The Katsuki group is yours, I have no claim to it."

She scratched her cheek thoughtfully. "You're different than I expected, Yuuri."

It was the first time she'd used his name, and Viktor noticed that Yuuri gave a small start at the sound of it. His voice was measured and even when he spoke, however.

"That so?"

"Looking at your picture as a kid always made me think you must have been a quiet, sweet person," she said, putting her pipe down and reaching into her pocket. She pulled out an old, tattered photograph, yellowed with age. She slid it over the table to him, and he took it, looking at it for a moment before turning it over and handing it back to her.

"Must be a disappointment, finding out your cute little brother is actually a Russian-Japanese mutt, and in the mafia, to boot," he said.

She scoffed.

"As if that would bother me," she said, taking the photograph and replacing it in her pocket. "I meant that even though you acted like such an insufferable hot shot yesterday, it's pretty obvious that you're still that same sweet person, underneath the _pakhan's_ mask."

Yuuri stared at her incredulously. A moment later he burst into genuine laughter.

"How the _fuck_ did you get to that conclusion?!" he said once he'd caught his breath. "I've killed more people than I can count; some of them with my own two hands. I've seen things that might even shock _you_ , sister, and you think I'm _sweet?!"_

Mari clicked her tongue.

"Laugh all you want. I'm not a fool, and I know what being in the mafia entails. Even so, I don't think you're quite as cold and detached as you like to sound. And I think your lapdog might agree with me," she said, catching Viktor's eye. He smiled and pressed a finger to his lips.

"I'll have to stop you there, _ane-ue,_ " he said brightly. "My master doesn't like me to agree with anyone but him, and I rather like my position."

She snorted. "Now you, Nikiforov... you're a much more difficult man to pin down. I can't tell if you're a pervert or a masochist or both. Though, seeing as you carry around your marriage certificate, maybe you're just an idiot."

"I wouldn't know," Vitya grinned. "I'm whatever my _pakhan_ wishes me to be."

"... A masochistic idiot, then."

"Sometimes."

"Most of the time," Yuuri said, grinning up at him. "Though I definitely never asked for that, Vitya."

"Alright alright, enough," Mari groaned. "I haven't even eaten breakfast yet, I don't have the stomach for this sickening couples' display just now."

"In honor of our newfound ties, I'll spare you that," Yuuri said, clearly amused. "Though with one condition, sister."

"Hmm? What would that be?"

"I'd like to visit Father's grave."

* * *

The scenery outside the window reminded Viktor a little of Central Park. There was so much green everywhere that it felt like looking at a landscape painting, though it was distinctly different from the urban refuge of New York. Everything about Hasetsu felt small in scale, but Vitya found that he rather liked it.

"I can see why this town used to be famous for its hot springs," he said aloud as they passed a grove of cherry trees by the river. "There's so much nature, it would be difficult not to relax here."

"It gets dull when you actually live here," Mari replied. She was seated in the passenger seat next to the driver, lazily flicking the ashes of her thousandth cigarette out the window. Viktor had always thought that Yuuri smoked too much, but Mari was quickly giving him a run for his money.

"I'm surprised you can run a crime syndicate in such a rural town," he noted.

"You'd be surprised," she said, running a hand through her hair. "We manage a tidy profit, though we don't only operate in Hasetsu."

"Interesting." Viktor looked over to Yuuri, but he was staring out the window, his eyes blank. He knew that was a sign to leave him be for a while.

"Should I turn here, ma'am?" the driver asked in heavily accented English. Mari shook her head.

"Next road," she said simply. She gave the driver and appraising look and turned back to address Viktor. "My brother said all the men here are in your inner circle. The driver too?"

Vitya saw Kolya's blue eyes flick toward him in the mirror.

"Ah, Kolya's not my dog," Viktor said smoothly. "He belongs to our _obshchak_."

"Your what?"

"It's what we call the _pakhan's_ left hand."

"I thought that was you."

"No, I'm the _right_ hand. The _sovietnik_ ," he explained, returning to stare out the window lazily. "My dogs are in the other car, with yours," he said, motioning behind them with his head. "Kolya and Adrian, the one with the tattoo, are on loan from our _obshchak_. Though, of course, they belong to Yuuri as much as they belong to her."

Yuuri made a small movement at the sound of his name.

"Her?" Mari asked, surprised. "You have a woman in your inner circle?"

"Two," Viktor corrected. "Our _obshchak,_ who is back in St. Petersburg, and Antosha, who you've met."

Mari frowned in concentration.

"You mean the one with long hair? I thought that was a man."

"She's very androgynous," he admitted. "And she was named after a man as well."

"Well some of you Russians look very feminine, to be honest," Mari muttered. "It's hard to tell."

Kolya smiled.

"Perhaps you mean me?" he asked good-naturedly.

"Well... I can imagine you get mistaken for a woman often," she said, taking a drag from yet another cigarette.

"You vouldn't be the first, ma'am." He pulled at a strand of his golden hair, examining it nonchalantly. "Perhaps I should cut it, commander?" he asked in Russian.

"No, it suits you," Viktor said, shrugging. "And it suits your job as well," he added in English.

"His job?"

"Kolya is the _avtoriyet_ who oversees... a very specific subset of the _bratva's_ businesses."

Mari raised her eyebrow at his vague explanation. Kolya's mouth twitched with amusement.

"He means I run our... how do you call it in English, boss?"

"Prostitution ring," Yuuri supplied in Viktor's place. He was alert again, pulling off his glasses to wipe them clean on his shirt.

"Ah, yes, prostitutes. Vomen and men," he said thoughtfully. "It's a job that comes with a lot of... talking. People feel reassured ven they meet me, for some reason."

"You know exactly why, Kolya," Yuuri scoffed. Neither Viktor nor Kolya elaborated.

"You work for a woman, though?" Mari asked, obviously interested.

"Ya. Mila Babicheva. A curious one," Kolya said.

"Turn right here," Mari directed him. "How so?"

"She's a very smart voman. Very driven. But she's only eighteen."

"She's in the inner circle so young?"

"She had the talent, so she was rewarded for it," Yuuri said. "It's as simple as that."

"I see." A moment later, Mari pointed to a small dirt road, hidden among the trees. "This is the place."

* * *

 **Viktor was not entirely prepared for his arrival at the airport in New York. The flight had been exhausting and long, and his initial curiosity and excitement had given in to a rather panicked feeling in the pit of his stomach. Makkachin had been good the entire flight, and he hadn't been asked to put him in a pet carrier (Vitya suspected that his parents had pulled some strings or intimidated someone over it) but now he was faced with the difficulties of feeding himself and a small puppy when he barely spoke a word of English. He wasn't sure where to go or how to talk to anyone, only that he had to go through what his father had said was called "customs" and meet his uncle on the other side.**

 **No one seemed to have a Russian translator on hand. There were some for what Viktor recognized as Spanish or French, even Chinese, but every time he was asked a question by a uniformed man and he clumsily replied "No English, Russian," as he'd been taught, the officers would frown and mutter something he didn't understand. After being asked several questions in as simple a manner as possible (complete with gestures and pointing), he was finally ushered through, passport and dog in hand.**

 _ **Now what?**_ **he asked himself, staring at the signs that he couldn't read. Makkachin whined in his arms.**

 **"D-don't cry," he said, trying to calm him the way he had with Yuuri when he was smaller. "I'll get us food somehow, promise."**

 **A small pang of guilt went through him.**

 _ **I want you to promise, whenever you're in trouble, call for me. If you can do that, I'll come flying right away, no matter where you are.**_

 ** _I'm sorry, Yuuri,_** **he thought, hugging Makkachin close as he stood lost and alone in the corridor.** ** _I promised to come to you whenever you called, and I wasn't even able to respond when you were crying for me. I'm sorry... please, forgive me._**

* * *

"Wait here. We'll be back," Yuuri said as he and Mari disembarked from the car. Viktor gave a small nod as Yuuri closed the door on him.

"Hmm? You're not going, commander?" Kolya asked in Russian, glancing back at Viktor as he stretched out in his seat.

"He doesn't want me there right now," Viktor said, sighing. "It's a private moment, father to son, or something."

"I'm surprised," Kolya said. "The boss rarely does anything without you at his side."

"He's not a child, Kolya," Viktor said. "He's the _pakhan_. He does whatever he wants, however he wants. It's not our place to question him."

"Not mine, no. But I don't think you're in quite the same position as me, sir."

Viktor laughed. "You shouldn't stick your nose where it doesn't belong. You might be Mila's dog, but I'm still your superior. Don't talk about things you don't understand, or you might find yourself in an unpleasant situation one day."

"Yes sir, apologies."

"As long as you get it," he said, reaching into his breast pocket for his lighter. "You have cigarettes, Kolya?"

"I do, but... I didn't know you smoked, sir," Kolya replied, pulling a box out of his pocket and holding it out to Viktor.

"I don't." He nevertheless proceeded to take one and light it. "I hate the feeling of inhaling this crap," he said as he raised it to his lips and took a drag. He felt like being a little reckless; he'd been dwelling on unpleasant memories all morning.

Kolya gave him a confused look in the mirror but didn't question him further.

A few minutes later, Viktor coughed.

"Damn it, fucking smoke everywhere," he muttered, opening the door and getting out. Kolya followed suit.

Behind their car, a second black Benz was parked haphazardly on the curb, several people leaning against the windows.

"Commander? We thought you went with the boss," Petya said, surprised to see Viktor step out of the car. Roma and another man with brown hair and eyes turned to look at his outburst.

"Will everyone just leave me alone?" Viktor muttered to himself. Kolya seemed to have heard because he chuckled as he walked over to the others.

"Adrian, did you hear from commander Babicheva?" he asked. The brown haired man shook his head slightly, not bothering to reply. There was a striking tattoo on the side of his neck, most of which was hidden from view by his immaculate suit. There was a subdued, almost dangerous air about him, but Kolya seemed perfectly at ease as he joined him.

"No word, huh? I wonder if she's fine, dealing with our jobs while we're out of the country."

Adrian merely shrugged.

"Right, I'm probably worrying too much," Kolya said brightly, lighting his own cigarette. "She's probably stomping delightedly on some idiot's balls, shoving coke down their throats."

Adrian nodded.

"I'll never understand you two," Roma said, giving them a bemused look. "Never mind your fucking bizarre one-sided conversations; I always hear you fawning over commander Babicheva as if she were a puppy or something."

"Well, she's pretty cute," Kolya said thoughtfully.

"Cute?! That woman is a nightmare," Roma shuddered. "Last time she 'borrowed' me, I saw her personally castrate five different men. With a smile on her face. And immediately after, she announced we were all going out for barbecue, as if she'd just finished a regular day at a desk job. She still had blood on her cheek while we were eating."

"Ah, she's especially adorable when she's all indifferent like that, right, Adrian?" Kolya said fondly. "Like a cute little sister." Adrian nodded, though his expression remained blank.

"Fucking weirdos," Roma muttered. "Cute clearly means something completely different to you two."

"Hmm? Isn't your definition of cute somewhat off too, Roma?" Viktor said, unable to hold back a grin. He felt less irritated now in the fresh sea air. "You're always telling anyone who'll listen about how great your son is."

"Leave my Yuri out of this," he grunted, green eyes narrowed. "This and that are completely different."

Petya chuckled. "Are they now? We're not going to get the lecture on how Yuri Plisetsky is a beautiful swan in the cutthroat skating world today?"

"You shut it. Yuri is adorable, okay?!"

"He's called the Russian Yankee for a reason, you know," Petya said, tapping his shoe on the ground.

"Hmph, so he can take care of himself. It doesn't make him any less cute."

"You always were a ridiculously doting father, Roma," Viktor laughed. "It's nice. You and Yulia really stepped up to the plate as parents, despite your circumstances."

"Well I only joined to support them," Roma said, leaning back on the car. "What else was I supposed to do? I was sixteen, my girlfriend was pregnant, we needed money. Nothing paid better than the _bratva_."

"Most men in your situation would have probably run out, though."

"Perhaps, but I'm not them. Yulia and Yuri are everything to me. I'd die for them."

A contemplative silence fell over the small group, which was only broken when Kolya put out his cigarette with his shoe.

"What happened to the _yaposhkas?"_ he asked.

"Dunno. They wandered off somewhere after we parked," Roma shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Not really. Just curious. They're very different from the boss, aren't they?"

"The boss is a Russian," Roma said sharply. "It's not the same thing."

"You didn't always think so," Petya said, and Adrian nodded in agreement.

"Well that was before, alright? And it doesn't make any difference outside the inner circle anyway. As far as the rest of the _bratva_ is concerned, Commander Nikiforov is the _pakhan_."

Viktor gave a snort of laughter.

"Those poor idiots. They'd have a heart attack if they knew the most infamous mafia family in Russia was run by a Japanese man. As if I could do half as good a job as Yuuri."

No one seemed to have a reply to that, and they found they didn't need one. Mari and Yuuri were making their way back toward them.

"Let's go, we're done here," Yuuri said simply, and everyone bowed respectfully before getting back in the cars. The Katsuki men seemed to reappear out of thin air not long after.

"What now, Yuuri?" Mari asked as the car pulled away from the curb. Yuuri stared out the window pensively. It was a look Viktor recognized, one that made him uneasy.

"Now we find the bastard who put Father in the ground."

* * *

 **Somehow, Viktor managed to find his way through the terminal by following the general sense of traffic. His heart sunk when he emerged into a crowd of people holding up signs, but the sight of his own name in Russian easily stood out.**

 **"Uncle!" he cried, pushing his way through the throng. A large, burly man with his father's eyes smiled widely as he approached.**

 **"Vitya!" he laughed, his voice booming as he knelt to embrace his nephew. "Look at you, all grown up now! You were this small the last time I saw you!" he said, holding his fingers together in an exaggerated gesture. "You look just like Katya, too. What a relief. The last thing we needed was another Nikiforov heir that looked like me and Mikhail!" From behind his uncle, a young boy with green eyes and cropped blond hair stared curiously at Viktor.**

 **"Hello," Vitya said, trying to be friendly.**

 **"Come on, say hello," Valya insisted, nudging the boy forward. "Vitya, this is Christophe Giacometti, but you can call him Chris. He's your cousin."**

 **"Hi," the boy said quietly. He had an odd accent, as if he wasn't used to speaking Russian. He was younger than Viktor, perhaps ten or so, and clearly nervous.**

 **"Nice to meet you," Viktor smiled. "I'm Viktor Nikiforov, but I guess you already knew that." Chris smiled shyly in return.**

 **"You two will be rooming together," Valya explained as they headed over to claim Viktor's luggage. "Chris has been cleaning out his room to make space for you, and I'm sure you'll get along fine. There's a bit of a language barrier, but I think it will work out. We'll start teaching you English first, Vitya; Chris' Russian is still a bit rudimentary."**

 **"Okay," Viktor replied, holding onto Makkachin to prevent the dog from jumping out of his arms in the crowd.**

 **"Katya called to let me know about the dog, so I have some food in the car for him," Valya said, ruffling Viktor's hair. "But you're probably starving too. We'll get you something to eat once we've loaded your things into the car."**

 **"Thank you, Uncle."**

 **Viktor was so tired that he hardly noticed when they'd piled his suitcases onto a cart and left the terminal. He was only vaguely aware of being settled in a car seat, Makkachin licking his face. He thought they ate, though he couldn't be sure of where or when, and the next thing he knew he was lying on a mattress, barely awake.**

 **"Vitya, Katya called to ask after you. She says your brother wants to speak with you," Uncle Valya's voice echoed oddly in his ears.**

 **"Mm, I'll... call him... later..." he muttered, unable to keep his eyes open. He thought he heard someone calling his name in the distance, but as his dreams carried him away to fantastic worlds of unknown adventure, he forgot all about it.**

* * *

 **Notes:**

Crap, I didn't mean to write this long or rambling of a chapter, but there you have it. First off, HAPPY NEW YEAR to all of my readers in the future. For the rest of you waiting impatiently to slay 2016, hang in there, we're almost at the end of the battle.

There are a lot of new characters in this chapter, some of which are familiar and some of which are less so.

1) Mila Babicheva worked her way up the ranks with her own skill, though she had an advantage in being the former obshchak, Yakov Feltman's, adopted daughter. He was against her joining the business but Mila did her own thing.  
2) Yuri Plisetsky is Roma's son. Like in the anime, he's fifteen, and he's also a figure skater.  
3) Chris isn't blood related to Vitya. Like Yuuri, he was adopted into Uncle Valya's family. More on that later.  
4) I've detailed the entirety of the _bratva's_ inner circle, so if there's a lot of name dropping, you can check this handy dandy chart on twitter that I spent a whole day working on: /Okaeri_Kairi/status/814665563876179969

[Just add twitter's address to the beginning of that link]

Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy my crappy, slow burn update! I hope it isn't too boring a read. ^^;


	5. Distance

It was amazing what the human mind was capable of remembering, even after eighteen years.

Yuuri could hear Viktor keeping up a stream of small talk with Kolya and Mari, but his voice sounded faint and far away, as if he were listening through a sheet of glass. The words melted into each other, became a fuzzy sort of static, until Yuuri completely tuned them out, his eyes focused on the scenery outside the window as they drove back to the inn.

 _I'd almost forgotten what sakura trees looked_ _like_ , he thought, watching a cloud of pale pink petals whirl on the breeze. He had a faint memory of sitting beneath trees like those with his father. He couldn't recall what the occasion had been, but he remembered lying on a picnic blanket on a hill, listening to his father talk and laugh with people whose faces eluded him. There had been a familiar, comforting smell in the air, though Yuuri couldn't tell if it had been tobacco or alcohol; it may have just been the smell of flowers.

Beneath the hill lay the sea, sparkling in the afternoon light. Yuuri remembered that he'd been transfixed, staring out at the water with awe as he lay on his stomach, kicking his feet in the air.

 _"Pretty, isn't it, Yuu-chan?"_

He could picture his father's face quite clearly; Mikhail had kept a photograph of Toshiya and his wife on the mantle for as long as Yuuri could remember, and it was that face, the happy, relaxed expression, that he imagined now. His father had worn glasses just like his, though he'd been heavier and his eyes had been black instead of brown.

 _"Mm!"_

 _"Your mother loved the sea too, you know."_ Toshiya sunk to the ground next to Yuuri, holding a sake cup in one hand.

 _"Kaa-chan did?"_

 _"She sure did. She wasn't all that fond of me, but she did love living here. She said that Hasetsu was beautiful; she liked how clean the air was and how much nature we had..."_ his father's words trailed away.

 _"Then, I like it too,"_ Yuuri said firmly, looking up at his father.

 _"Heh, you remind me of her a lot, Yuu-chan. To me, you and your Kaa-chan were both precious, fragile dreams I needed to protect. I failed your mother twice, but at least for you, Yuuri... For you, I'll make sure we can see this beautiful scenery together every year."_ Yuuri remembered a large, rough hand mussing his hair, and nothing more.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, a familiar lump rising in his throat.

 _Stop it. Not here, not now. Get a fucking grip._

He tried to think of something else, but it was hard; he'd never expected Hasetsu to affect him this strongly. For many years now, his memories of his hometown had been vague and undefined, a series of sensations instead of concrete recollections. He wasn't prepared for the wave of nostalgia and pain that was now consuming his thoughts.

 _You came here to find the truth. Not to wallow in a past that doesn't belong to you anymore._

A sudden touch on his hand startled him. To his right, Viktor was still talking with the others, but when Yuuri looked down, he saw that Vitya had pressed his palm over Yuuri's fingers.

 _Vitya... You always see right through me._

But as Yuuri began to rummage in his pocket for his box of cigarettes, a different voice echoed in his mind.

 _"Well, of course he does, Yuratchka,"_ it said, savoring the sound of his name like a snake. " _After all, you bound him to you so tightly that he would never be able to leave, didn't you? Why else would someone like Viktor stay at your side?"_

 _Shut the fuck up._

 _"So volatile, Yuratchka... As dirty in mind as you are in body and soul, aren't you?"_

 _Shut UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!_

"Yuuri?"

He blinked. Both Mari and Viktor were staring at him, concerned. He'd crushed his unlit cigarette in his fist, his fingernails tearing into his palm.

"Are you alright, Yuuri?" Viktor asked, leaning over to press a gentle hand to his cheek.

"O-oh, yeah... I'm fine," he lied, pulling away from his husband's touch.

"But you're pale, do you-"

"I said I was _fine!"_ Yuuri snapped. A hurt look came over Vitya's eyes, but he nevertheless obeyed.

"Yes, boss..."

 _Don't touch me... The last thing I want is to dirty you too._

* * *

 **"Chris, did you see where I left my shorts?"**

 **"I think Mom took them when she did the laundry," Chris replied in fluent English, lazily flipping through a magazine on his bed. Vitya groaned.**

 **"First Makkachin eats my shoes, now Aunt Lena steals my clothes..."**

 **"Just wear a different pair," Chris shrugged.**

 **"But those were my** ** _favorite_** **," Vitya complained, throwing himself onto his mattress. His hair fell over his face, but he didn't bother to brush it away. "There's no point in going out now, the whole day is ruined."**

 **His cousin laughed.**

 **"God, you're so dramatic, Vitya."**

 **"It's not my fault everything goes wrong. My life is hell," he sighed, covering his eyes with the back of his hand. Chris rolled his eyes and continued to read.**

 **"Viktor, honey, there's a phone call for you."**

 **Aunt Lena peeked around the door, holding up the wireless receiver for him. Like Chris, she had bright green eyes and short blond hair, but her accent was far more pronounced than her son's. She'd immigrated from Switzerland and brought Christophe along when he was a child, and together they'd begun what they thought was a peaceful life in New York. When Lena became involved with loan sharks, however, Uncle Valya happened to be there and the rest, as they said, was history. Lena often joked that she hadn't bargained on her new husband leading his own gang, but that she was glad he did.**

 ** _"After all, loan sharks don't come around to bother the mafia's top brass,"_** **she always said, winking.**

 **"Who's it from?" Vitya asked tonelessly. "If it's Tony, tell him I'm not here."**

 **"It's from Yuuri," she said. Viktor immediately sat up and held out his hands for the receiver.**

 **"Hello? Yuratchka?" he said eagerly in Russian.**

 **"Vitya!" Even after two years, Yuuri's voice still sounded as high and sweet as ever. In Viktor's mind, his little brother was the same small boy he'd left behind in St. Petersburg, though he knew he must have grown at least a little since then.**

 **"How are you?" Viktor asked, lying on his stomach.**

 **"Uhm, okay. School hasn't been so great..."**

 **"Bad grades?"**

 **"No, just... you know..."**

 **Viktor sighed. "Yuratchka, you can't keep letting those kids walk all over you."**

 **Yuuri went silent.**

 **"Tell someone, hit them! I can't help you from all the way in New York."**

 **"Y-yeah, I guess you're right. I'll p-punch them next time."**

 **"Good," Vitya said, rolling over and playing with his hair. He was thinking of growing it out. "How are Mama and Father?"**

 **"They're fine," Yuuri said after a small pause. "Father says I'm going to start learning how to fight soon."**

 **"Whaaaaat, really?"**

 **"Mm, but I don't think I'm really cut out for it... I'm so small..."**

 **"I'm sure you'll be fine, Yuratchka! They'll probably start you on self-defense, like they did with me. It's not so hard, I'm sure you'll have fun." He suddenly sat up. "Oh! Speaking of which, listen to this! Uncle Valya got me started on martial arts!"**

 **"What's that?"**

 **"You know, like kung-fu, karate, cool stuff like that!" Viktor said excitedly. "He says it might come in handy when I'm older."**

 **"Wow..."**

 **"Oh and, listen, I think I might have a girlfriend!"**

 **"Really?!"**

 **"Yeah, she's a girl in my class and-"**

 **Viktor hardly noticed that Yuuri was only speaking when he was expected to agree.**

* * *

"Welcome back, boss." A person with long black hair stood respectfully aside as they opened Yuuri's door, eyes cast down as they bowed. Yuuri stepped out, brushing his hair back casually as he stared up at the inn's sign. Mari, Kolya, and Viktor got out a moment later.

"Antosha, where's Alexei?" Viktor asked. The person looked up, and Viktor saw Mari raise an eyebrow.

 _Confusing, isn't it?_ he thought, amused by the yakuza leader's reaction to his subordinate. Antona Karavayev was a woman by birth, but she did not quite look like one. Despite the long hair and soft features, there was a hardness to her expression and her body language that felt rather masculine. It wasn't just the severity of her demeanor either; Viktor had never understood androgyny until he'd met Antosha, but there was no other word to properly describe her.

"Inside, sir," she said. Even her voice was low and ambiguous, though it suited her.

"Did he compile the data I asked him to find?" Yuuri asked.

"I wouldn't know, boss," she said simply. Yuuri nodded and walked past her, Viktor on his heels. Mari, with her long legs, quickly caught up.

"I still would have mistaken her for a man, if you hadn't told me she was a woman," she said thoughtfully.

"She wouldn't care if you did. The only reason she calls herself female is because that's what her birth certificate says," Viktor explained.

"She prefers being a man?"

"No, she doesn't have a preference."

Mari snorted. "Your subordinates sure are a strange bunch."

"Perhaps. But if it's precision and lethality you're after, there's no one more suited than Antosha," Yuuri said calmly. "She's our head assassin."

Mari stopped dead.

"You brought an _assassin?!"_

"Of course," Yuuri shrugged as he crossed into the foyer. "You never know when you need a bullet, especially in enemy territory."

Mari sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Why do I get the impression that I'm going to regret this whole operation?"

"Only if you've got something to hide," her brother said coldly. Viktor felt a shiver travel down his spine.

 _He's not fucking around today..._

"Heh, luckily for me, I want the bastard that took out the Katsukis dead just as much as you do, little brother," Mari said, her tone equally cool. She lit a cigarette and took a drag, blowing the smoke in Yuuri's direction. "Don't threaten me, Yuuri. You'll regret it." Several of Mari's men pulled guns from their pockets, and Vitya heard Antosha do the same behind him.

 _Crap, not this again..._

Thankfully, Yuuri laughed softly a moment later.

"The Katsuki group is in good hands, _Ane-ue_."

"Hmph, as long as you know that."

Viktor sighed in relief as they filed into the banquet room. A short man with sandy brown hair was sitting alone at one of the long tables, his fingers clacking away at a laptop keyboard. He barely looked up when Yuuri and Mari came in.

"Hello, boss," he said in Russian, his green eyes never leaving the screen.

"Alexei, watch your tongue," Viktor barked as he closed the door behind him.

"Oh, hey Commander," Alyosha replied just as casually, half-heartedly raising a hand to wave as he continued to type with the other.

"Ah, you're the one that called me a bitch yesterday," Mari said. She strode over to him and grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing his head back to look up at her. He blinked, unperturbed.

"What else do you call a bitch?" he asked earnestly in clear English. Viktor had to step in to stop Mari from pressing her lit cigarette to Alyosha's face.

"Wait wait, stop!" he cried. Behind him, Yuuri took his place without a word. _Thanks for the support, Yuratchka,_ he thought crossly. "Alyosha, apologize or I'll have your fucking balls," he growled. " _Ane-ue_ , please let him go just this once; he's bad at social cues, but he really doesn't understand if he's done something wrong until you tell him so."

"Tch, fine," she said, reluctantly releasing Alexei's hair. He rubbed the back of his neck but otherwise showed no sign of pain or fear.

"I'm terribly sorry, ma'am," he said brightly, turning back to his screen. Mari scowled but sat down on the other end of the table regardless. One of her bodyguards hurried forward to serve her.

 _Why do I feel like I've become a babysitter all of a sudden?_ Viktor thought, exhausted.

"Alyosha, your report," Yuuri said, fully at ease. Vitya had to stop himself from rubbing his temples in exasperation.

"Yes, sir."

As Alyosha finished typing, Yuuri reached into his breast pocket. Viktor firmly held his hand out and there was a moment in which Yuuri's eyes narrowed and he thought he would be reprimanded. Instead, the _pakhan_ placed his cigarette in Viktor's hand slowly, almost sensually.

"You'll be paying this back later," Yuuri said simply as he turned back to Alyosha.

"Of course, Yuuri." _I look forward to it._

* * *

 **Yuuri's lungs were aching, tearing apart in his chest. He gasped desperately for air but only managed to choke on ash, his vision blurry.**

 **"To... Tou-sa...n!" he croaked, shrinking back against the wall in fear. His glasses had fallen somewhere and he could only see vague shapes and light. Everything was a whirl of smoke and flame, of shadows and awful sounds. There was a terrible, sharp smell in the air; if there had been anything left in Yuuri's stomach, he would have retched again.**

 **Even as a five year old child, Yuuri knew that it was the smell of people burning.**

 **"Yuuri! Run!"**

 **The voice was faint, but Yuuri would recognize it anywhere. He tried to move toward it but found that he was too dizzy. His little hands clutched at his chest, trying to force himself to breathe.**

 _ **Tou...san...**_

 **"** ** _Bocchan!_** **Hang in there,** ** _bocchan!"_**

 **Slowly, Yuuri's lungs began to clear. He realized he was being carried, but he couldn't see the face of the person carrying him.**

 **"Tou-san, where..."**

 **"Don't worry, Toshiya-san will be fine," the person said firmly, and Yuuri recognized the raspy voice of his father's right hand man.**

 **"Yuzu-ojisan..."**

 **"Don't talk too much,** ** _bocchan_** **. We're almost out of the hou- ARGH!"**

 **There was a savage crack and Yuuri suddenly found himself tumbling on the ground.**

 **"Yuzu-ojisan! Oji-san!** **" he cried weakly. He swung his head around frantically, trying to find a moving silhouette. A few feet ahead of him, someone was moving against a backdrop of flickering light. Yuuri opened his mouth to cry out to Yuzuru, but the figure merely held out an arm toward a shapeless blob on the floor.**

 **There was another echoing crack. Then another.**

 **It was only when a third shot was fired that Yuuri understood what was happening. He clamped his hands to his mouth as a wave of pure, animalistic fear washed over him. He barely noticed that he'd wet himself as he struggled to back away from the figure.**

 _ **Tou-san! Oji-san, anyone! Help!**_

 **The figure was approaching slowly. Yuuri's heart was in his mouth, imagining the figure's hand raising to shoot him. He'd never really thought about death before, but now, he found himself wondering if it hurt to die. Shakily, he took another step back.**

 **"Afraid? Smart kid," came an unfamiliar voice. Something about the sound was off, but Yuuri was too shaken to place it.**

 **"Hey, you got the boy?" A second voice called, as if from a distance.**

 **"He's over here," the figure shouted in return. He seemed to turn back to Yuuri. "I really don't have the stomach to kill kids," they murmured. Yuuri stumbled and fell onto his back, his breath coming in panicked gasps.**

 **"T-Tou-san...!" he shrieked desperately. The figure gave a cruel laugh.**

 **"Your dad ain't coming any time soon," they said. "Sorry kid, but a job is a job. It's your own fault for being born a Katsuki anyway." Yuuri recognized the sound of a gun being loaded.**

 **He shut his eyes tightly, praying to anyone or anything that would listen to help him.**

 **An awful roar suddenly blasted through his eardrums, and Yuuri was engulfed in pain beyond anything he could have imagined. His skin was blistering, his clothes burning. He screamed, but it somehow wasn't enough to drown out the sound of someone shouting and cursing loudly nearby.**

 _ **"FUCK! I told that bastard to hold the explosives!"**_

 _ **"Boss! The whole place is gonna go up in flames!"**_

 **"Ugh, fuck! Get out, we're done here!"**

 **"What about the boy?!"**

 **"Leave him, he's as good as dead!"**

 _ **Tou-san... daddy! Mama!**_

 **Yuuri couldn't be sure who he was screaming for anymore; as the flames licked at his back and arms, he wasn't even sure he was still alive.**

* * *

"There wasn't all that much to go over, boss," Alyosha explained. "The initial investigation said it was arson, but after failing to turn up any new leads, the case was closed and put down to an accidental fire."

"There was nothing accidental about that night," Yuuri said. Viktor recognized the deadly fury in his tone, but no one else seemed to realize just how angry he was.

"We already knew this, _rosuke_ ," Mari said impatiently. "What we want to know is if you managed to dig up anything new."

"Well, not really," Alexei said. As usual, his tone was unusually upbeat; as the head of intelligence for the _bratva_ , Alyosha's computing and memorization skills were priceless, but his inability to pick up on social cues made dealing with him unpleasant and irritating. "I mean, I managed to hack into the police records and found some recorded calls that they traced. They were keeping an eye on the Katsuki group around the time the incident happened."

"What was the reason?" Yuuri asked sharply.

"The usual, as far as I can tell. Drug tip offs, investigations into embezzlement... nothing that stands out."

"And the calls?" Viktor asked.

"Most of them look like they're between Toshiya and his subordinates. There's a couple to Russia and one to China, though."

"Where in Russia?"

"St. Petersburg," Alexei said, scrolling through the list. "I listened to one of them earlier and it sounds like a friendly chat."

"Probably to Father," Yuuri said thoughtfully. "And the one to China?"

"No idea. I don't speak Chinese," Alyosha shrugged. Mari snapped her fingers at one of her men.

"Takeda, get Fang Hue."

As he hurried away, Viktor peered over Alexei's data.

"Hold on, what about this call?" he asked, pointing at the screen.

"Which one?" Alyosha asked.

"That one. The number is odd."

"Oh, I don't know what that one is. It's corrupted. The audio too."

"You can't fix it?"

"No, the best I can do is run the string through a number generator and see what results we get for the numbers we can't read."

"Will that help at all?" Mari asked.

"It might give us an idea of the area code, at least," Alexei beamed.

"Find it," Yuuri ordered.

"Yes, boss. It will take a day or two, is that alright?"

"Whatever it takes."

* * *

 **Yuuri hung up much later than he'd intended to. Listening to Vitya's voice was calming, even if it was changing from the voice he'd known for so many years. It didn't matter that his older brother wore on for hours about nothing in particular; any time spent with Vitya was better than nothing at all.**

 _ **He sounds happy,**_ **Yuuri thought, a small smile on his face.** ** _That's good._**

 **He got up from the floor slowly, his body aching from having been in the same position so long.**

 **"Yuratchka?" Katerina called from downstairs. "Did you finish your call?"**

 **"Yes, mama," he replied loudly.**

 **"Wash up for dinner then, alright?"**

 **"Okay!"**

 **He walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out a shirt and pants at random. He carried them to his bathroom and shut the door.**

 ** _I wonder if Vitya got taller...?_** **he thought to himself as he pulled off his shirt. He'd grown several inches in the last two years, but he was still woefully small compared to most of his classmates. Katerina always had to buy him clothes for younger children, something he was often teased for.**

 ** _If I was Vitya's real brother, would I be tall and pretty too?_**

 **He stared at himself in the mirror. A short, scrawny boy with shaggy black hair and angled eyes stared back. Across his chest and upper arms were a series of dark scars; though he couldn't see them, Yuuri knew they continued on his back.**

 **Still, it wasn't these scars that Yuuri's eyes were drawn to. It was the fresh ones on his belly and thighs that he examined, round, unnatural welts that were still red and in the case of his newest one, bleeding.**

 **They hurt, but Yuuri had been through much worse pain before. These were nothing.**

 **And yet, as he looked, a different kind of burning took hold of his heart.**

 ** _If I was Vitya's real brother..._** ** _Would they have stopped when I screamed?_**

* * *

 **Notes:**

You... did know this was a Mafia AU... right?

 **Translation Notes:  
**  
1) Bocchan is an endearment and title at the same time. It's what servants call a young master.

2) Oji-san means uncle, but it doesn't necessarily mean a blood related uncle. Children often call adults they are close to "aunt" or "uncle".

3) Alyosha's full name is Alexei Zhvikov. The chart from last chapter might come in handy here.

I recently launched a Patre on (/okaeri_kairi) so that I can focus on writing full-time. I'm offering requests and a few other little bonuses to anyone who pledges. If you like this or any of my other stories, please consider supporting me, and thank you so much for reading! As always, I wait to hear what you thought!


	6. Promises

Mari's translator made quick work of the phone call that Alyosha had found.

"It's Cantonese, ma'am," he said a moment after listening to the recording. "Shall I transcribe it for you?" he asked, pulling a pen from his pocket. Unlike most of Mari's men, he wasn't wearing any traditional clothes, nor was he sporting a flashy coat; in fact, he was dressed in a suit, much like the Russians, and his expression was serious and clerical. Despite his dark hair and angled eyes, Vitya could tell at a glance that he was not Japanese. His time in America had helped him learn to take note of people's appearances and mannerisms quickly, and all ethnicities had their unique qualities; that sort of information was valuable and could make all the difference between negotiating peacefully or ending up with a bullet through the head.

 _Unfortunately, I forget things way too quickly_ , he thought, mentally berating himself for already forgetting the man's name.

"As fast as possible, if you can, Fang Hue. In English," Mari said, nodding curtly.

"I'll have it done in a few minutes," Fang Hue bowed and accepted the headphones from Alyosha as he sat down in front of the laptop. He began to scribble quickly on a notepad that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

"In the meantime, perhaps you can spare some tea, sister?" Yuuri asked pointedly, leaning back and looking far too relaxed to be entirely believable. Viktor glanced down at Yuuri's left hand, resting on his knee. As he'd thought, there were fingernail marks on the inside of his palm. Recent ones.

 _I can see the blood, Yuratchka... I know you're more stressed than you're letting on._

Vitya would have loved nothing more than to wrap his arms around Yuuri's waist and let him forget his worries for a while, but he wasn't foolish enough to try it in front of all these people. _Innuendos and jokes are one thing; showing the pakhan's weaknesses in public is another entirely._

"I'll have something brought in," Mari said. She snapped her fingers at one of her subordinates and he was gone without a word. Viktor saw his opening and took it.

"My, _Ane-ue_ , you have very well trained dogs," Vitya said, knowing that he could lead the conversation in the direction he wanted.

"They're very loyal, though I had to break some of them in at first. You, on the other hand, might need some reining in," she said, eyebrow raised. "You're entirely too talkative for a lapdog, brother-in-law."

 _Good, she has his sense of humor._

"Hmm?" Viktor asked, his tone playful. "But I'm merely following my master's orders, _Ane-ue."_

"Somehow I doubt that," she snorted.

"Well, it's my job to serve and protect him, but I was never told to be _quiet_ while doing it," he said, licking his lip. "Actually, I rather think he likes it." He saw Yuuri's mouth twitch slightly.

 _Bingo._

"Bold words from a sap who carries around his marriage registration," Yuuri said calmly, pulling off his glasses. "Then again, you always did like being _leashed."_

Viktor's cheeks burned.

"I didn't know it was a crime to carry important documents," he muttered, looking away pointedly. Yuuri gave a bark of laughter, and Mari had to stifle her own snort behind her hand.

"Careful there, Vitya," Yuuri grinned. "People will think you don't bite."

"Only by command," Viktor said, aware he was far too flushed to make an effective comeback. Yuuri chuckled at his expression.

"Ugh, spare me the details," Mari scoffed, packing fresh tobacco into her pipe. "I don't even want to know how you ended up married; I doubt I can stomach it."

"Hmm, what a shame," Yuuri said, a sly grin on his lips. "It's a good story, _isn't it_ , Vitya?" Without warning, he pulled him down by his tie and licked Vitya's cheek. Mari promptly dropped her pipe, and the men sitting behind her suddenly didn't seem to know where to look.

About the only person in the room who looked perfectly at ease was Alyosha, who gave a wolf whistle before turning back to his work.

As Yuuri's tongue slid just beneath his ear, Viktor thought his heart might stop.

* * *

 **Valentino Nikiforov was Mikhail's younger brother by two years. At the age of 23, he left the Soviet Union and emigrated to the United States, where he began to develop a branch family to the** ** _bratva_** **in an effort to extend the mafia's reach internationally. Officially, Valya's group was an offshoot of Mikhail's; in practice, however, it was a very different thing.**

 **The mafia in America operated under very different rules than it did in Russia. The Nikiforovs were used to working in the shadows of communism, not capitalism, and Viktor, though he'd grown up in the post-Soviet world, very quickly learned that there was a world of difference between the two.**

 **For one, while the** ** _bratva_** **technically had the same structure in both, the American branch had much more complex ties to other gangs. Just in New York, for example, there were numerous families from all sorts of backgrounds and ethnicities congregated into a single city. Every street belonged to someone, and you had to be extremely careful of who you offended or who you killed; the smallest misstep could break out into war. As a result, the** ** _bratva's_** **activities tended to focus on diplomacy and alliances with other groups, while in Russia the focus was on business instead.**

 **Even within the** ** _bratva_** **, things were far more diverse than they would ever have been in Russia. Uncle Valya's** ** _sovietnik,_** **for one, was an Italian man from the Crispino family who had been inducted into the** ** _bratva_** **as a** ** _vor_** **, an honorary "thief", in his youth, in a move to strengthen ties between the Italian and Russian mafias. Similarly, the** ** _obshchak_** **was a half-Russian, half-American, and it was not rare to see many other nationalities in the ranks. This what not necessarily the case even in other American gangs, where nationality was an important factor to limiting who could join; Uncle Valya, however, didn't care at all.**

 **"It doesn't matter where you come from," he often lectured Chris and Vitya. "That's what this whole country is supposed to be about. In Russia you hear a lot about the** ** _bratva_** **being contaminated by outsiders, but that's ridiculous. Brothers don't have to come from the same blood. What makes you brothers isn't whether or not you share a mother or father, but the bonds you build between yourselves. If that's true between Russians, then it's true between anyone. Roberto and Borya are my brothers and my spies, not because they are from my race, but because we have been through much together. We are all Americans, and we are all** ** _bratva_** **as well. I'm sure you already know this, but keep it in mind, both of you."**

 **During his training, Viktor spent a lot of time working with his uncle and his two spies. He was mostly an observer, though he was also often given advice or asked what he would do in a particular situation. It wasn't until he turned sixteen that he began to actively work for the** ** _bratva_** **as a member in his own right.**

 **As was customary, he began from the very bottom, as a** ** _shetsyorka,_** **a glorified errand boy. He was given many odd jobs and asked to collect intelligence on other gangs, but for the most part he wasn't involved in the fighting or negotiations themselves.**

 **"You're still too young for that," Valentino told him after Viktor complained about how boring it was. "Your job now is to finish school and create ties with the people who will be watching your back when you earn your place as a** ** _vor_** **."**

 **"But I'm going to be** ** _pakhan_** **," Vitya said, twirling a strand of his hair petulantly as his uncle drove him and Chris to school. "Why do I have to start at the bottom with everyone else?" Valya sighed.**

 **"That pride of yours is going to get you killed someday, Vitya. The world does not revolve around you."**

 **"I know that..."**

 **Chris laughed.**

 **"Could have fooled me, with all your admirers and girlfriends and the teachers eating out of your palm," he grinned. "Everywhere you go, all you hear is people fawning about Viktor Nikiforov and I** ** _know_** **you eat it right up."**

 **"Hmm? Jealous?" Viktor asked brightly, tying his hair back into a ponytail. He'd grown it out so long that it was past his waist now; he liked seeing people's reactions when he caught them staring, and he knew it was inevitable that they would. He was, after all, Katerina's son right down to the tips of his toes, and he could see the elegant, sensual young man he was becoming with every passing day he glanced in the mirror.**

 **"As if," Chris said amicably. "I don't know how you handle being surrounded by people every minute of the day."**

 **"I manage."**

 **Uncle Valya groaned.**

 **"That's exactly your problem, Vitya. You can't go around acting like you're the most beautiful creature on God's green earth in our business. We're the underground, the shadow world. We're not supposed to attract attention, foolish boy."**

 **"But Uncle," Vitya said, eyes wide as he leaned forward. "What am I supposed to do if I really** ** _am_** **the most beautiful creature on God's green earth?!"**

 **Chris burst into laughter and Valya swore.**

 **"And** ** _this_** **is why you're starting from the bottom, you smug little shit," he growled. "Perhaps earning your rank will knock some humility and sense into you."**

 **Personally, Vitya doubted it.**

* * *

"Boss, I have the translation," Fang Hue said, not long after. He slid the notepad across the table to Mari, who read the first few lines and frowned.

"Ji Liuxian?" she asked. The translator nodded. "I didn't know Father was on speaking terms with the Ji family..."

Yuuri made an odd movement that was not lost on Viktor.

 _Someone you know, Yuuri?_

"The Ji family in Hong Kong?" he asked.

Mari shrugged. "I suppose so, that's what it says here, at least. Why? Is it important?"

"I think he was there," Yuuri said, almost to himself, his brow furrowed.

"Ji Liuxian? During the incident?" Mari asked sharply.

"I can't remember all that well... but I remember playing with a boy who didn't speak Japanese," he said. "I think he came with his father to visit us... What does the transcription say?"

"It seems like a simple courtesy call," Mari replied, handing over the pad. "But there's always a chance it could be in code, if Father thought he was under surveillance."

"We won't be able to crack it if it is," Yuuri said as he skimmed the translated lines. "Father loved codes, he had a different system for everything. The men often complained they couldn't remember them all."

"That makes things difficult," his sister said, chewing on her fingernail thoughtfully.

"Maybe not," Yuuri said, sliding the pad back to her. "Last I heard, Ji Liuxian was still alive."

"True, but he's retired, isn't he?"

"Alyosha, can you look it up?" Viktor asked. Alexei didn't reply, his eyes scanning over the screen rapidly as he typed.

"Alexei," Yuuri said sharply. Still, Alyosha didn't respond.

"He's in work mode," Vitya said grudgingly. In one smooth motion, Yuuri reached into his pocket.

"You might want to cover your ears, sister," he said as he pulled out his gun and pointed it at the ceiling. Before anyone could so much as voice a concern, he pulled the trigger, and a savage crack echoed throughout the room. Alexei and a few of Mari's men promptly fell over in shock.

"B-boss!" he said, his voice strangled. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Pay more attention or next time your heart won't need an attack to stop beating," Yuuri said coldly. Alyosha went visibly pale.

"Y-yes, sir..."

"Yuuri... you just shot a hole in my roof," Mari said, rubbing her temples.

"I'll pay the damages."

"That's hardly the point..."

"You did say my dogs might need a firmer hand," he said, replacing the spent bullet casually. "Vitya is a special case, but I wouldn't want you to think that I'm soft, _ane-ue."_

"Point taken," Mari muttered, eyeing the damage irritably.

* * *

 **"Happy birthday, Yuuri!"**

 **Yuuri fell back on his bed with a small smile on his face, the phone receiver pressed to his ear.**

 **"Thanks, Vitya. I wish you were here though..."**

 **"Aww, I wish I could be there too, Yuratchka. I wanted to give you a hug and your present in person."**

 **"Mm..."**

 **"So? How does it feel?"**

 **"How does what feel?"**

 **"Being twelve! You're old enough to start your training under father's** ** _sovietnik_** **now, aren't you excited?"**

 **"Mm, I guess so," Yuuri said, raising one hand up toward the ceiling idly. "Nikita is going to be taking over my self-defense training starting this week, and he'll be driving me to and from school too. I'm supposed to follow him around the rest of the time..."**

 **"That's how it is at first." Yuuri heard the sound of glass clinking in the background. "You learn by watching, and when you're older they'll swear you into the ranks."**

 **"I guess..."**

 **"You don't sound so happy about it," Viktor noted. "What's up?"**

 **"I just don't really feel like I'm cut out to be in the** ** _bratva_** **, Vitya..."**

 **"Don't be silly, you'll do great! You're my brother, aren't you?"**

 **"But I'm not strong, or cool... and I don't know if I can hurt people..." he said softly, his thoughts turning to the kids at school who lived to torment him. He covered his eyes with his arm, his fingernails digging into his palm.**

 **"Well, just think of it as protecting your brothers instead then. Look, don't worry, you won't have to prove yourself until later. Just follow Nikita around and do what he says."**

 **"...Okay."**

 **"Oh, I have to go, Yuratchka, Chris needs something. Have a great birthday, okay? Love you, talk to you later!"**

 **"Love you t-" but Vitya hung up before Yuuri could finish his sentence. He stared at the receiver, a lump in his throat.**

 _ **They're getting**_ _ **shorter,**_ **he thought, and his stomach began to hurt.** ** _He's never around to answer my calls, and he only remembers to call back on important days... and even then, the conversation only lasts five minutes..._**

 **Yuuri rolled over in his bed, burying his face into his pillow tightly.**

 _ **I want my brother... I want my Vitya back...**_

 **He hiccuped, trying to fight the tears that were gathering in the corners of his eyes. Even with a kind mother and a father who doted on him, Yuuri never felt like he belonged in the Nikiforov household without Viktor there. He hated feeling like he was inconveniencing the parents that had so kindly taken him in and raised him, and he didn't want to be hated for all the trouble he caused. Ever since they'd been children, Viktor was the only person that Yuuri felt he could really depend on. Vitya was soft and warm and friendly, and had always looked after Yuuri of his own volition. In Yuuri's mind, Vitya was more of a mother than even Katerina.**

 **Or at least, the Vitya that he'd known before he left for America was. Unfortunately, Yuuri wasn't sure that Vitya still existed.**

* * *

"Ji Liuxian is currently abroad, according to his son Guang Hong, who thankfully speaks English," Alexei reported once he'd finished his phone call. "It seems he can't be reached just now, but Guang Hong assured me that he'll pass along the message as soon as he gets through."

"Another dead end for now, huh," Mari said, taking deep drag from her cigarette. "And you say the other number won't be decoded for a while?"

"It won't be decoded at all," Alyosha said, his odd smile still in place. "All I can do is give you a guess as to where the call came from, but it will take a couple of days."

Silence fell on the small group for a good minute or so.

"Well, there's no point in sitting around dwelling on the past while we wait," Mari finally said. She clapped and one of her subordinates came forward. "Jirou, tell the cooks to get to work. We'll have a feast to celebrate Yuuri's return to Japan."

"It's not necessary," Yuuri said firmly, but Mari merely flicked her ashes in his direction.

"Oh shut up, this is my inn, and my group, and if I want to get shit drunk because the little brother I thought died eighteen years ago is alive and well, I dare you to try and stop me."

Yuuri sighed. "Fine. Whatever you like, sister."

"You and your men can use the hot springs here at your leisure, and I'll have fresh clothes brought to you. You can't enjoy a good drink in suits," she said as she stood up from the table.

"Heh, I suppose not," Viktor said, his mouth twitching at the thought of seeing Yuuri in a yukata. He eyed his husband's figure as the _pakhan_ got up to follow his sister.

 _It'll look great on him,_ he thought. _He always did have a certain suggestive grace, underneath the insecurities._

His eyes wandered down slightly as he followed behind Yuuri.

 _Not that he isn't already sexy in a suit._

* * *

 **Yuuri wasn't sure how to hide the wound. Unlike most of his bruises and scars, it was a rather large cut on the inside of his thigh that went deeper than usual. No matter how much he cleaned it, hidden in the boys' bathroom during lunch, it continued to bleed profusely, and it hurt terribly to walk on it.**

 _ **I don't know how to make it**_ ** _stop,_** **he thought anxiously, sweat beading on his forehead as he pressed a wad of toilet paper to the wound.** ** _Class is gonna start soon..._**

 **After ten minutes, however, Yuuri knew he'd need to go to the nurse's office. Dread pooling in the pit of his stomach, he slowly made his way to the infirmary, clinging to the wall for support.**

 **"Hel- oh... it's you again," the nurse said coldly when he opened the door and she saw his face. "What did you do to yourself now?"**

 **Yuuri didn't bother to correct her as he took a seat on one of the plastic chairs against the wall. It wasn't like she didn't already know the truth, even if she chose not to acknowledge it.**

 **"I got cut," he said quietly, rolling up his pant leg to expose the cut. It looked even worse in the harsh lighting than it had in the dark bathroom stall. The nurse rolled over in her chair and took a quick look at it.**

 **"Stupid boy, you shouldn't play with knives," she snapped. "What a waste of medicine," she added under her breath as she got up to find some alcohol and gauze.**

 **Yuuri shrunk in on himself, wishing he could simply disappear.**

 _ **I'm sorry...**_

 **"I swear, you're not worth half the trouble this school sees because of you," she scolded as she poured alcohol over the wound without bothering to warn him. Yuuri did his best to hold in his cry but he wasn't able to prevent a pitiful whine from escaping his lips. "Shut up, it's your own fault," the nurse said coldly.**

 **"Y-yes, ma'am..."**

 **"How a school this prestigious got saddled with a creature as stupid and useless as you, I'll never know," she said as she roughly wrapped the gauze around his thigh. "They should have expelled you at the first sign of trouble."**

 _ **I wish they**_ _ **had.**_

 **"There, now quit wasting my time and go back to class," she snapped when she was done. As Yuuri thanked her and closed the door behind him, he distinctly heard her mutter the word** ** _'yaposhka'_** **under her breath.**

 **It was not the first time an adult thought he was too stupid to understand the slur.**

* * *

Wearing a yukata felt strangely familiar, despite the fact that Yuuri had been around four years old the last time he'd worn one. The fabric hugged his body comfortably and he was glad his sister had thought to provide it.

 _She's an interesting one_ , he mused as he sat on the porch outside the banquet hall, sake cup in hand. Inside, he could hear Antosha shouting drunkenly and the sound of several people laughing, but Yuuri had never been good at social gatherings. He was easily overwhelmed in situations like these, and he didn't feel like drinking enough to lose control tonight.

 _I don't know if I'm glad she's here or not. Maybe, if Father had known about her, he wouldn't have sent for me. I could have lived here, in this inn, with her and her mother..._

He had a fleeting image of himself growing up with Mari, but a moment later he shook his head.

"They were specifically after me," he said to himself. "They would have found me and killed Mari too."

He drank slowly from his cup, his thoughts turning back to Toshiya and the incident.

 _Why, though? What did Tou-san do to deserve what happened to us?_

"You look pensive tonight, Yuuri."

He turned to find Viktor standing over him, his expression concerned.

"That suits you," Yuuri said, ignoring his comment. "The color is good."

Viktor looked down at the dark green sleeves of his yukata. "If you say so, Yuratchka."

"I do."

Viktor chuckled and sat just behind Yuuri, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"I meant to do this earlier, but we never had any time alone," he said quietly, his voice hot in Yuuri's ear. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold traveled down Yuuri's spine.

"Is that so?" he asked, feigning indifference.

"Mm, you looked like you needed a hug." The words were so sincere and sweet that Yuuri unconsciously leaned back, staring up at the sky with Viktor's cheek pressed to his hair.

"Maybe I did," he admitted, allowing himself to relax slightly. "Thank you, Vitya."

"Mhm, anything for you, Yuratchka," he said, kissing the top of his head. Yuuri closed his eyes, allowing his mind to empty of thought.

"It's cold, Vitya," he said softly.

"I can do something about that," Viktor replied. He nuzzled his face against Yuuri's ear, kissing the nape of his neck gently. Yuuri took one of the hands around his waist and interlaced their fingers together.

"Still too cold."

"Should we go to bed, then, Yuuri?"

"No, warm me here," he said. Viktor obliged, slipping his hand into the fold of his yukata. His mouth trailed a series of kissed from Yuuri's ear to his shoulder, but he paused when he reached the burn scars.

"Vitya?"

"Sorry," Viktor said, his voice low. "I was just thinking how beautiful you are, Yuuri."

"Hah, don't be stupid."

"No, I mean it. You really are beautiful, from the tips of your fingers to the scars you hate so much." He kissed the burn, his tongue tracing the ridges of uneven skin.

"Stop," Yuuri said, his breathing heavy. "Don't call me that."

"What would you prefer I call you, then?"

"Anything but beautiful."

Viktor pulled away slightly.

"Yuuri... did... was that how it started?"

A sickening feeling spread through his stomach.

"No," he said coldly, sitting up and adjusting his clothes. "It wasn't."

"Yuuri..."

"Enough, leave me alone," he snapped, looking away from those all too familiar blue eyes.

"I can't," Viktor said, trying to take his cheek. "You know I can't..."

Yuuri slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me."

"Yuuri, I didn't mean-!"

 _"DON'T TOUCH ME!"_

He hadn't meant to shout, but as he saw the hurt look in Viktor's eyes, he had to stop himself from unleashing the hot fury that was filling his heart.

"You have no right to give me that look," he snarled, walking away angrily.

 _I hate him. I hate his selfish, tactless way of thinking; I hate those stupid blue eyes that look as though they can see right through me; I hate how he can so easily touch my wounds, as if he didn't cause them in the first place!_

Something hot and wet trailed down his cheeks, and when he reached up to wipe it away, he realized he was crying.

 _No... the one I hate isn't Vitya,_ he scolded himself, pressing his hands to his face to choke out his sobs. _He's not at fault._

 _The only one at fault is me._

* * *

 **"You know, it's no fun if you don't cry,** ** _yaposhka_** **."**

 **A tremor of pain ran up his leg from where they were holding a lighter to the sole of his foot. Still, Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek hard, trying not to make a sound.**

 _ **It doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt, it doesn't**_ _ **hurt!**_ **he repeated to himself over and over, willing himself to believe it.**

 **"Tch, I think he's used to burns by now, Dima," one of the boys holding him down said. Another one of his classmates swore.**

 **"Fuck, and I forgot to bring the cutter."**

 **"Fucking** ** _yaposhka_** **, think you can get all smart on us now, huh?" the boy called Dmitriy spat, grabbing a fistful of Yuuri's hair and pulling him up. Even then, Yuuri forced himself not to cry out. "Disgusting," the boy snarled. "Look at you, you're all skin and bones, and so fucking delicate too. You might as well be a fucking girl, you piece of shit."**

 **"If he was a girl, we could at least fuck him," one of the others said loudly, and several of the boys laughed. A cruel smile came over Dmitriy's face.**

 **"Who says we can't?"**

 **A wave of sheer terror went through Yuuri.**

 **"N-no, stop!" he cried, trying his best to push Dmitriy away. Though he'd been training in self defense for two years now, he was far too small to properly protect himself against boys this much larger than him.**

 **"Hah! Afraid? Why? I thought you didn't feel pain anymore,** ** _yaposhka?"_**

 **"Let go!** ** _Let me go!"_**

 **"Hold him down," Dmitriy ordered. "Strip him."**

 **"No! NOOO! VITYA! VITYAAAAA!"**

 **"Gag him."**

 **It wasn't enough to silence his cries for his brother completely, and by the time they were done, his voice was all but gone. They left him bleeding on the school roof, beaten and bruised in both body and soul.**

 _ **You lied, Vitya...**_ **he thought, feeling empty and cold.** ** _I called for you... but you never came for me._**

* * *

"Yuuri!"

"Leave me the _fuck_ alone!"

"No! Please, wait!"

Viktor managed to grab hold of Yuuri's wrist and pull him back. Yuuri tried to break free, but Viktor was stronger and held firm.

"Let me go," Yuuri said, his voice colder than ice. "I'm not a helpless kid anymore, Viktor. Don't make me kill you."

Vitya's expression softened and he loosened his grip.

"If it will make you feel better, Yuuri, you can kill me at any time," he said softly. "I already told you, my life is yours. Whether you want it or not is up to you."

Yuuri slapped him, hard.

"You... you selfish _prick!"_ he shouted, shaking Viktor violently by the shoulders. "What the fuck do you know?! What the _fuck_ do you understand?! You offer your life only when it suits you, you offer your attention only when you feel like it! You don't know what it's like to be the one left behind, you don't know what it's like when you break your promises!"

Viktor made no move to fight or answer back, and it was only when Yuuri swore and pushed him away roughly that he spoke.

"You're right, Yuuri. I don't know what it's like," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't change the mistakes I made when I was young. I'll never know or begin to understand what you've been through if you don't tell me."

"You know plenty," Yuuri said, furious.

"That's not what I mean, Yuratchka... I mean, I'll never know how you feel... how you really feel, if you never talk about it." He stepped forward and took Yuuri's face in his hands. "I've told you before, that you could kill me if you wanted, Yuuri. But you didn't, and you even agreed to marry me when I asked. You never told me why."

There was a serious, bold look in his eyes, and Yuuri found that he couldn't look away.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, bastard."

"Then, do you love me, Yuuri?"

Yuuri's mouth went dry.

"W-what?"

"Do you love me? Do I mean anything to you?"

He meant to deny it, to hurt Viktor the way he'd been hurt so many times before, but something about his expression seemed so sad and lonely that Yuuri couldn't force out the words.

"I don't know," he said truthfully. "Sometimes, I hate you."

"Even if that's true, I love you, Yuuri."

"Fuck you," Yuuri spat.

"I love you, everything about you," Viktor said, caressing his cheek with his thumb. "Even if you hate me, even if you decide to kill me, I love you." He kissed Yuuri's forehead and nose, and when it seemed he wouldn't push him away again, his lips. "I'll love you until the day I die, Yuratchka."

For a moment, Yuuri wasn't sure how to respond. His heart was aching, his hands trembling. Before he knew it he'd thrown himself into Viktor's arms, just like he had as a child.

 _"I hate you! I hate you!"_ he sobbed into Viktor's shoulder.

"Mm."

 _"I loved you so much, how could you leave me, Vitya?! How could you?!"_

"I'm so, so sorry, Yuuri... I can't go back and fix what I did to you, even though I wish every single day that I could. All I can do is promise that I'll never leave your side again."

"Your promises mean nothing!"

"I know..." Viktor said, running his fingers through Yuuri's hair. "But they're all I can give you."

Yuuri pushed him away, but a moment later he pulled him down into a fierce, desperate kiss.

"Prove it," he said fiercely, the tears still stinging his cheeks as he let go.

* * *

He tasted like home.

Even without the smell of tobacco or the slight tang of alcohol on his lips, there was something comforting and familiar about Yuuri's skin. Vitya savored it, pressing his mouth to his eyelids, his ears, his neck, his stomach. He took his time, leaving small marks as he went, running his hands down Yuuri's back slowly.

"Vitya..."

The sound of his name in that sultry, breathless tone lit a fire in him. He reached up, burying his fingers in that soft black hair as he kissed Yuuri deeply, his thumb rubbing circles on his lover's inner thigh.

"Yuuri, I love you," he murmured into the kiss, pulling back enough to look him in the eyes. "I love you, _zolotse moyo_ , with everything I am."

"Words don't mean anything, in Russian or any other language," Yuuri whispered quietly stroking Vitya's cheek.

"No, but these are the only ways I know of to express how I feel," Viktor replied, taking Yuuri's hand and pressing his palm to his lips.

Yuuri buried his face in Viktor's neck.

"Vitya... I don't care if it's a lie... please... tell me again."

Viktor kissed the side of his neck. "I love you."

"Again."

He moved on, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. "I love you, Yuuri. I love you."

Not once during the rest of the night did he stop murmuring those words.

* * *

 **Notes:**

Sweet Hylia I did NOT intend to write this long of a chapter... somewhere along the way the characters kind of took over... as usual.

As always, please let me know what you thought. I always look forward to hearing from my readers! Now excuse me while I go cry for a bit... *sniff*


	7. Glass

**For what seemed like an eternity, Yuuri lay on the roof, his consciousness flickering in and out of awareness, his body screaming with pain. He thought he heard the school bell ring several times, but he couldn't be sure if school was over yet. To some degree, he wasn't even sure if he was still alive or not.**

 **Eventually, the pain in his bones and muscles assured him that he was, though it was a small consolation at that point.**

 **He couldn't say where he found the strength to gather his things and clean himself up. Slowly, he began to feel around for his clothes and glasses and he retrieved them one by one, dressing himself as best as he could. He was dizzy and couldn't help wincing and whimpering as he went, but somehow he was able to remind himself that even this was nothing, nothing, to the sheer agony of being burned alive.**

 **He didn't bother to check if classes were still in session and instead headed straight to the bathroom, where he had to go through the slow, painful process of undressing himself again so he could assess the damage to his clothes and body. He was covered in scratches and bruises, as usual, but he found blood on his thigh and several marks on his arms and wrists that would be difficult to hide. He did his best to wash up in front of the sink, trying not to look at his own tear-stained, battered face in the mirror.**

 **No amount of scrubbing was able to get the bloodstains out of his uniform, though he was lucky that they weren't very noticeable against the dark fabric. After twenty minutes of working on his slacks with soap and a brush, he gave up and hoped against hope that no one would pay too much attention until he could somehow get rid of the evidence at home. There was nothing he could do about the bruises on his wrists, however, and his sleeves only barely managed to keep them out of sight.**

 _ **I'll just have to figure out an excuse,**_ **he thought dully as he cleaned his face.**

 **He couldn't remember when it was that he'd begun methodically hiding the scars and bruises his classmates inflicted on him. All he knew was that he couldn't let Mikhail or Katerina see them, at any cost. The last thing he wanted was for them to worry or find out how much trouble he caused. Physical abuse wasn't nearly as painful for Yuuri to endure as it was to see the disappointed expression on Mikhail's face every time he'd had to intervene at his old school.**

* * *

There was something wonderful and comforting about seeing Yuuri's face as soon as Viktor opened his eyes in the morning.

 _He looks so different from when he's awake_ , he thought, watching the gentle rising and falling of Yuuri's chest as he slept. His hair was splayed over the pillow, the scars on his shoulders faint in the dim light. Somehow, he looked so relaxed that Vitya could almost remember the times Yuuri had slept in his bed as a child, clinging to Viktor's hand even in his dreams.

 _You were so sweet and innocent, then_ , he thought, resisting the urge to brush Yuuri's cheek with the back of his hand. _My adorable little brother, like a little duckling following its mother around..._

A pang of guilt caught in his throat.

 _If Father was still around to see what you've become, and if I knew half of what you refuse to tell me, we never would have left you to fend for yourself._

 _But, at the very least, I'll love you enough to make up for all the hate and pain we put you through._

Yuuri made a small noise and turned over, the sheets slipping off and exposing his back. Viktor could make out the kiss marks he'd left the night before, a series of red circles stark against Yuuri's pale skin.

 _So I said, anyway, but this time I think I went overboard_ , he winced, counting the visible marks and running a mental tally. _I'm in for it when he wakes up..._

He sighed, resigning himself to his fate. _Oh well. From the moment I realized I loved him, I was in too deep to care anymore._

"Vitya... you're talking to yourself aloud again."

The sound of Yuuri's voice startled him. "Wha-?! _Yuuri!_ If you were awake you should have said so!"

Yuuri turned to look over his shoulder, squinting irritably at him.

"I was asleep until you started talking. If you're going to monologue, do it in your own head and leave the rest of us out of it," he grumbled, wrapping his arms around a pillow. The sunlight caught on his wedding ring, blinding Viktor for a moment.

"Oh... sorry," he said, shielding his eyes. He was glad that Yuuri seemed to be back to his usual self, though he knew his lover better than to believe that Yuuri wasn't hiding how he really felt, especially after accidentally baring his insecurities the night before.

 _I wish you'd be more honest with_ me _, at least..._

A sudden twinge of loneliness made him gently tug Yuuri's shoulder back in his direction. "I'm going to be sad if you hold the pillow instead of me, Yuratchka," he said petulantly. Yuuri made a noise between a snort and a grunt.

"The pillow is quieter," he quipped.

"Not nearly as good-looking, though."

"Much less full of itself."

"Not as warm."

"Perhaps, but at least it's not groping me every five minutes," Yuuri said, opening one eye to give him a meaningful look.

"I wouldn't do it if you didn't like it," he pouted, and Yuuri gave a small laugh.

"Fine, fine. Move over." Viktor obliged and Yuuri allowed him to pull him into his arms. "Happy?"

"Mhm, ecstatic." He kissed Yuuri's hair gently, his hands wandering down to Yuuri's waist. He began to trace light circles down his lower back, but Yuuri grabbed his wrist.

"None of that," he warned. "I still have to discipline you for leaving marks on your master's body, you naughty puppy."

"Ah... so you do remember," Viktor said, scratching his cheek sheepishly. "And here I was hoping you'd forgotten..."

In a practiced motion, Yuuri pushed Viktor over, using the momentum to straddle him.

"Sweet words and insinuations aren't going to get you out of this one, Vitya," he said, leaning in close. Viktor could feel his heart hammering in his chest as Yuuri held his wrist firmly over his head. His face felt flushed as Yuuri pressed his lips to the side of his neck, just below his jaw.

"W-wait, not there, I won't be able to cover-!" He didn't get to finish his sentence before he felt the familiar nip of teeth on his skin. " _Yuuri!_ Dammit, Yuratchka!"

* * *

 **He knew he was late, but Nikita's car was waiting in the parking lot as usual. Yuuri took a deep breath, swallowing the panic that was threatening to spill over.**

 _ **Just act normal. Normal. You've been hurt before, and no one noticed. Act normal, and no one will be able to tell.**_

 **Holding tightly to the strap of his backpack, he walked up to the Benz and opened the back door as usual, trying his best not to limp.**

 **"You're late today, Yuuri," a man said from the driver's seat as Yuuri slid into the car nervously. Nikita Moryakov was Mikhail's** ** _sovietnik,_** **but he was the sort of person that seemed ill-suited to his role. He had a kind face, with dark brown hair and a short figure, and he was always dressed smartly and impeccably. From what Yuuri had been told, the thirty-six year old spy was a distant cousin of Mikhail's, and he'd earned his position after nearly dying from a bullet wound meant for the** ** _pakhan_** **. He'd known Yuuri and Vitya since they were small, and he was one of the few Russians outside of his immediate family that Yuuri really trusted.**

 **"I'm sorry... I forgot to finish some homework," Yuuri croaked, wincing at the roughness of his voice. He could feel Nikita's eyes studying him in the mirror.**

 **"Are you alright?" he asked, concern in his tone.**

 **"Mm, catching a cold," Yuuri lied, coughing slightly for effect. He tried not to fidget, but he felt like Nikita was staring right through him.**

 _ **Don't look at my clothes, don't look at my clothes, please don't look...**_

 **"Should we stop by the pharmacy to get some medicine?" Nikita finally asked as he put the car in reverse and started to pull out of the lot.**

 **"No, I'll-" Yuuri had to clear his throat. "I'll be okay," he said weakly.**

 **"If you insist... I'll just call the boss and let him know you're not feeling well enough for training toda-"**

 **"NO!"**

 **Nikita stopped dead with his hands still on the wheel, startled by the rough cry. Yuuri panicked, looking down at his knees.**

 **"I-I mean, I don't want to bother Father. You can just drop me off at home, Nikita..." he murmured.**

 **"If you're certain, Yuuri..."**

 **"Yes, please..."**

 **Nikita was sensible enough not to press the issue further, but Yuuri was sure he was studying him in the mirror with those piercing blue eyes that reminded him so much of Vitya's.**

* * *

"Good morning, boss." All six _avtoriyets_ bowed formally as Yuuri entered the room, waiting for Yuuri to take his seat on the floor at the head of the table. Viktor followed just behind, face warm as he slid the door closed behind him and took his usual place at Yuuri's right side. Once they were both seated, the rest of the men did the same, leaving spaces between them for the their absent members. No one spoke until Yuuri had reached into his breast pocket for a cigarette and Viktor finished lighting it for him.

"Alyosha," Yuuri said slowly, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "What's the progress on the number and on Ji Liuxian?"

Alexei straightened somewhat and cleared his throat. He was obviously still shaken by Yuuri's warning the day before, and Viktor felt his mouth twitch with amusement.

"The number has been mostly processed by now," he said. "The only thing left to do is to crosscheck the possibilities with real area codes and then see if anything matches with the rest of Katsuki Toshiya's call history. As for Ji Liuxian, we haven't had any contact from him just yet, boss."

Yuuri nodded. "How long will it take to finish crosschecking the number?"

"At least until tomorrow. I have to run it through another program."

"Do it."

"Yes, sir."

Viktor saw Alyosha's eyes slide over to him nervously, looking for approval from his superior. A second later they lit up with surprise and mischief, and Viktor glared at him.

 _Yes, your commander has bite marks on his neck. Anything else you want to point out before I shoot you?_ he thought irritably. Clearly Alyosha caught the gist of the silent exchange because he hastily looked away and went pale as a sheet.

"Kolya and Adrian," Yuuri said next, turning to the left side of the table, where the _obshchak's_ men usually sat. "I'm sending you back to St. Petersburg first thing tomorrow."

"Boss?" Kolya asked uncertainly. Adrian's expression barely changed. "Did... the commander ask for us?"

"No," he said, putting the cigarette to his lips. "I'm sure Mila is doing just fine on her own, but even she can't run both of your brigades at the same time for too long. Prostitution and drug trafficking are interrelated but require different personalities and experiences to run smoothly. Mila has plenty of fire, but she lacks the latter."

 _When it comes to Mila, I don't think experience matters all that much, actually,_ Viktor thought privately. Contradicting the _pakhan's_ words, however, was to break the most sacred law in the _bratva,_ and even Vitya wasn't sure he could get away with disrespecting Yuuri in front of nearly the entire inner circle.

"Then we are to resume our responsibilities?" Kolya asked.

"As soon as possible. You're dismissed for now."

"Yes sir," Kolya said. Adrian bowed slightly in response. The both stood up left the room.

"The rest of you are coming with us," Yuuri said as he put out his cigarette on the ashtray Mari had provided for the meeting.

"Where are we going, sir?" Antosha asked. Despite having drunk herself into a stupor the night before, she hardly looked any different from usual. In fact, the only sign that she _had_ been drunk was the telltale bruise on Petya's cheek from where she had almost certainly dug her heel into his face. The two of them were notoriously bad drunks and often got into arguments that usually ended badly for Pyotr. Though normally quiet and efficient, Antosha when inebriated was a sadistic, foul-mouthed force of nature, and the others had long learned not to provoke her. Petya, unfortunately, was just as terrible at holding his liquor, and it was something of an inside joke that one could tell how much the two of them had drunk on any given night based on the bruises he sported the next day.

Yuuri tapped the table and Vitya recognized the sign that he was now expected to explain.

"It depends," he said, slipping back into his role as commander. "Mostly on what Alyosha's work turns up, and on what Ji Liuxian has to tell us."

"And the Katsuki woman?" Roma asked, arms crossed.

"She'll do as she pleases," Viktor said. "It won't have any effect on our movements."

"Then the goal has not changed?" Petya queried, wincing slightly; he was clearly quite hungover.

"No," Yuuri said, cutting in before Viktor could reply. "I don't care if we have to go to the depths of hell itself; I want the person who killed my fathers on his knees so I can have the satisfaction of ripping him limb from limb myself."

* * *

 **He wasn't supposed to get involved. His job was to quietly gather information on an unauthorized drug operation in their territory and pass it on to his superiors. That was it. Get in, observe, get out. He'd done it countless times before, and he was quite confident in his ability to look like a casual passerby, even if he did normally catch quite a bit of attention.**

 **Still, he was always ready to defend himself, should it come to it. His athleticism was one of the few qualities that Uncle Valya could never find fault with, and he had been practicing with guns regularly since he'd turned fourteen. But when all hell broke loose, Vitya finally understood that nothing his father or uncle could teach him would ever be enough to prepare him for the life he was born into.**

 **He'd been stationed in a bookstore across the street, pretending to be engrossed in a random volume in front of the shop window so he could surreptitiously keep an eye on the dealers. There were only two of them, a pair of men in street clothes at the entrance to a small alleyway between an abandoned shop and a warehouse. Every so often someone would approach them nervously and the three would retreat further into the shadows so as to avoid prying eyes.**

 _ **Not very sophisticated,**_ **Vitya thought carelessly as he turned a page. He could hear several girls giggling behind him, and he had to stop himself from brushing the silvery hair from his face suggestively. He didn't need Uncle Valya to scold him if he found out that Viktor had been showing off and fooling around on the job.**

 _ **Not that he won't accuse me of doing it anyway,**_ **he sniffed. Valentino had been trying to get him to cut his hair for months now, but Vitya wouldn't hear of it. Even if it did make his already handsome features stand out, he hadn't run into any trouble yet, and he was always able to use his good looks to lessen others' suspicion of him.**

 **He was about to leave for the afternoon when his cellphone rang. He snapped it open and recognized Chris' number.**

 **"Hello?" he answered brightly.**

 **"Vityaaa? Where are you?" his cousin asked.**

 **"Uh, Third Street and Elm. Why?"**

 **"You forgot, didn't you?" Chris made an amused noise. "Mom asked you to pick up a package at the post office before they closed for the day."**

 **"Ah... yeah I did forget," Vitya said calmly. "What time do they close?" He began to walk toward the door and was about to push it open when a movement on the other side of the street caught his eye.**

 **It was lucky that he had fast reflexes because he only just managed to throw himself to the ground a second before the glass shattered.**

 **The other customers screamed, and Viktor immediately pulled the gun from his pocket.**

 **"Get down!" he shouted before he turned to peek around the side of the shelf. He had to pull back almost immediately to avoid being shot.**

 **"Vitya?! What the hell is going on?!" Chris' voice demanded loudly, his voice distorted by static.**

 **"Chris, tell Uncle I've been found out, I'm at the bookstore across from the dealing point I was asked to check," he said rapidly, checking the number of bullets left in his gun. "I need backup, hurry!" He hung up before Chris could reply, stashing the phone back into his coat.**

 _ **Fuck, what gave me away?**_ **he thought as he heard another shot go off. He inched toward the other side of the shelf slowly and saw that there was a mirror above the cashier he could use to get a rough idea of the shooters' position.** ** _There should only be two..._** **he reminded himself. He had a decent sized box of ammo, but it wouldn't be enough to hold them at bay if they also had extra bullets. Across the aisle, the cashier and the group of girls who had been fawning over him were huddled together, eyes wide with terror. One of the girls was crying, and Viktor felt his heart go out to them.** ** _What rotten luck... just in the wrong place at the wrong time..._**

 **"Miss, don't cry, okay?" he said in a carrying whisper. She and the others gave him a frightened look and he smiled reassuringly at them. "I'll protect you, don't worry."**

 **He glanced up at the mirror and saw a figure moving just beyond the window. He took a deep breath and fired two shots before he was forced to duck back into safety.**

 _ **Tch, I don't think I got either of them,**_ **he grimaced as several shots were fired in return. He waited a minute before trying to get a clear shot.**

 **This time, he didn't move out of the way fast enough.**

 **There was a burning hot pain on the side of his cheek and he hissed, his hand coming away bloody when he clapped it to his face.**

 _ **Grazed,**_ **he realized. "Fucking assholes, do you have** ** _any_** **idea how long that's gonna take to heal?" he muttered aloud to himself.** ** _There goes my chance of being voted most handsome in the junior yearbook._**

 **One of the girls screamed again, and Viktor wiped his cheek with the back of his hand.** ** _Fuck, this is bad._**

 **"We know you're in there, you fucking rat," a gruff voice called. "Come out and play, hmm? You must think you're really hot shit, walking around looking like some dolled up whore and thinking we wouldn't notice that you were watching us."**

 **Vitya couldn't help chuckling.**

 _ **Uncle Valya is gonna have a field day if I make it out of this alive.**_

 **"You must know some pretty classy whores," he quipped back, watching the blurry figures in the mirror. "Not just anyone looks this good without trying, you know."**

 **A shot broke the tile an inch from his foot, and one of the girls lost her nerve. He saw her move and knew what she was about to do, but he was too late to stop her.**

 _ **"No! Don't-!"**_

 **She didn't make it even one step beyond the shelf before she was shot multiple times and fell crumpled to the ground, dead.**

 **Viktor didn't even hear the screams. Though he'd been raised all his life for life in the mafia, he'd never actually seen or known anyone to die. It was different from what he'd seen in movies, or heard about in stories. One moment a person was alive, and the next they could be a grotesque, bloody doll, eyes glassy and empty, staring at nothing at all. It didn't matter that he hadn't known the girl, or that he himself had been aiming to kill just a minute ago. It didn't matter that he'd always been told about the dangers of the underworld, or that he'd been warned that hesitation was deadly. His mind went blank.**

 **He hardly noticed when the police arrived, or when they cuffed him and read him his rights. All he could hear was the awful choked cry on the girl's lips as the first bullet ripped through her lungs.**

* * *

The phone call took a long time in coming. Yuuri had been growing increasingly anxious all day, and Viktor could tell that he was having a hard time keeping his expression from betraying it. Even after the _avtoriyets_ were dismissed and he and Vitya were left alone in the meeting room, Yuuri remained visibly tense.

"Yuratchka, we don't have to wait here all day..." Viktor finally said after a good hour of sitting in relative silence.

"Shut up," Yuuri growled, his leg bouncing in anticipation.

 _Well that didn't work._

"What if we go for a walk or something? The beach isn't far-"

"No."

"Yuuuriiii..."

"What?!" he snapped.

"You're going to break those chopsticks if you don't stop holding them so tightly," Viktor remarked coolly.

Yuuri blinked and looked down at his hand, where he'd been clutching onto the thin sticks with considerable force. "Oh."

He put them down on the table, and Vitya could see him biting his lip. He sighed.

"Okay, it's intervention time," he announced, grabbing Yuuri by the hand and pulling him up.

"Vitya, what the-?!" But Viktor pressed a finger to Yuuri's lips.

"Shh, my turn to talk," he said cheerfully. "You might be my _pakhan_ , Yuuri, but I'm still your older brother. And your lover. And legally wedded spouse." He paused. "Actually, you know what, I'll take that sentence back," he said thoughtfully. "It sounds indecent when I say it in that order."

"Vitya, you have three seconds to let go or so help me I'll-!"

"Nuh uh uh, no," he said in English. "I'm allowed to take you out on a date once in a while. It's in the marriage contract. Somewhere."

"A _date?!_ You must be fucking _joking."_

"I never joke about dating. Now come on," he said, shoving Yuuri bodily through the door. "We're going out to dinner. No suits."

"Viktor!"

"Nope, not listening. You're coming on this date and you're going to enjoy it, whether you like it or not."

 _And hopefully, you can forget all about Ji Liuxian for at least a couple of hours._

* * *

 **Uncle Valya came to bail him out less than an hour after he'd been arrested. Despite being a minor, he was being held on charges of illegal gun possession and destruction of property, so it took a bit of persuasion to have the police release him. Once the witnesses confirmed that Vitya had been on the defensive (and once Valentino had slipped them a good sum), the officers let him go.**

 **"You better thank your lucky stars you were only arrested," Valya growled as he led Vitya to the car. "I told you that you need to cut this fucking mane off, it's way too recognizable!"**

 **Viktor didn't answer. He barely heard what his uncle was saying as he took his seat.**

 **"And why didn't you pay more attention?! You should have noticed something was off-** ** _Vitya are you listening?!"_**

 **"...Huh?" he asked, feeling dazed.**

 **Valya sighed. "It's the girl, isn't it?"**

 **Viktor didn't even realize he was crying until the tears fell onto his hands.**

 **"She... she was just** ** _there,"_** **he managed to say. "And then she... wasn't."**

 **Valentino gave him a long, searching look and patted him on the head.**

 **"There's not really anything we can do to teach you what it's like on the streets unless you actually experience it for yourself, Vitya. It's one thing to know that our world is dangerous, but it's another entirely to see it happen in front of you."**

 **"I said I was going to protect them," Viktor said softly, his voice thin. "I promised I would. But I couldn't do anything to stop it..."**

 **"It's not your fault. There wasn't anything you could have done."**

 **But as his uncle drove them home, Vitya was reminded of another promise that he'd once made to a small child, and which he'd also broken.**

* * *

Somehow Viktor managed to keep Yuuri distracted for the rest of the evening. He was surly at first, angry at having been forced out of the inn, but after a while he began to relax. It felt a little strange, going on something as normal as a date, but Viktor was glad for the change of pace. Yuuri rarely removed the _pakhan's_ facade in public, but here, in Japan, where no one knew them, Viktor thought that there was a little more of the Yuuri he'd known as a boy in his expression.

It was a shame that it came to an end so soon.

He'd brought Yuuri to the beach after dinner and they were walking along the shore when a phone rang. Yuuri didn't even have to pull it out of his pocket before his eyes lost the warmth Vitya had so carefully coaxed out of him. By the time he'd answered, Yuuri was once again the Nikiforov _pakhan._

"Hello?"

Viktor didn't pay much attention to the rest of the conversation. He stared out over the water, the sea breeze whipping his hair into his face.

 _I'm an idiot. Why did I expect that one night and one date might be enough to help him forget?_

He watched the waves break onto the sand, leaving and taking shells and pebbles with a gentle, calming rhythm.

Almost like the rhythm of a beating heart.

 _The most fragile thing in the world,_ he thought. _Like glass. So easily stopped. So easily shattered. I wonder... when that girl's heart beat its last... is that when mine began?_

"Vitya."

He turned to see Yuuri replacing his phone in his pocket.

"Well?" he asked. There was a strange distance between them in that moment, as if one of them might be carried away on the wind.

"We're going to Shanghai," Yuuri said simply.

* * *

 **Yuuri had fallen into a fitful sleep when Katerina knocked at his door.**

 **"Yuratchka, phone call for you," she said as she held the door ajar. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, holding out his hand for the receiver.**

 **"Hullo?" he said sleepily once she'd left.**

 **"Yuuri?"**

 **"Vitya?" Despite his exhaustion and aching body, Yuuri couldn't help feeling better at the sound of his brother's voice. "Why are you calling so late?"**

 **There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Say, Yuratchka... I'm really sorry."**

 _ **He... knows?!**_ **Yuuri immediately panicked.**

 **"H-huh?!"**

 **"You know... for being so distant lately."**

 **Yuuri almost let out a sigh of relief, but the heavy weight in his chest didn't disappear. "Oh... it's okay, Vitya..."**

 **"No it isn't. I said I was going to protect you and call you every day, and I didn't... If something were to happen to you..."**

 **For a moment, Yuuri considered telling Viktor everything. He thought that perhaps, if Vitya knew what had been happening, he might come back, that he might understand. But as he opened his mouth to bare his soul, something else stopped him.**

 _ **If I tell Vitya... he'll only tell Father. And Father will know that I was too weak to protect myself...**_

 **A painful lump formed in his throat.**

 ** _I was supposed to fight back. I was supposed to learn how to fight back... It's my own fault..._**

 **"I'm fine," he lied, holding tightly to his shirt. "I'm fine even without you here, so you don't have to worry."**

 **"Oh... well if you ever need me, make sure to call me, okay?"**

 **"Okay."**

 **"Goodnight, Yuratchka... I love you."**

 **"I love you too, Vitya."**

 **He promised himself he wouldn't cry as he got out of bed and opened the door. He promised himself he would wait until he was back in his sheets as he made his way downstairs to replace the receiver. But by the time he got to the hall, he was already choking back tears, the pain in his back and stomach nearly as bad as the pain in his heart. He let himself sink to the floor, burying his face in his arms.**

 **"Yuuri?"**

 **Startled, he looked up to find Nikita leaving Mikhail's study. Clearly he'd just finished a meeting with the** ** _pakhan_** **and was about to head home when he'd found Yuuri on the stairs.**

 **"Nikita..." Yuuri sniffled. The older man's face softened and he sank to his knees in front of the boy, taking his hands gently.**

 **"Is this about why your uniform was bloodied today, Yuuri?"**

 **Yuuri took one look at those familiar blue eyes and found he could no longer hold back his sobs.**

* * *

 **Notes:**

This is a bit of a transitional chapter, so I hope it isn't too boring...

Many thanks to NG and Lera on twitter for their help in figuring out how to write some of the dialogue in this chapter with regards to Russian formalities. And as always, thanks to the lovely Minatu for being amazing and helping me find these people in the first place! (Go follow her, you won't regret it.)

Thank you so much for reading, and for always making my day with great comments! You are all wonderful and I love you. *sob*


	8. Tainted

Airports always reminded Vitya of farewells. No matter how many years passed, he couldn't help recalling himself at just twelve years old, parted from the only family he'd ever known. It was hard to distance himself from the whirl of emotions that came with the memory, though it often came in bursts of sensation:

His mother's voice as she embraced him. The jostling of the line. The softness of Makkachin's fur on his arm. Excitement and fear roiling in his stomach.

And over it all, the sound of Yuuri crying his name, echoing in his ears long after he'd left him behind.

Standing outside the terminal as Roma and Petya unloaded the luggage from the two black cars, Viktor found himself staring blankly at the entrance, his thoughts fifteen years in the past.

 _That was the moment I became a sinner. The moment I destroyed everything that mattered to me_ , he thought, hands in his pockets. _I didn't have a choice, being sent away... but there was so much I could have done to prevent everything else._

"Ugh, I hate flying," a voice said from just behind him. Viktor jumped as someone tall rested their elbow on his shoulder. The smell of tobacco suddenly overwhelmed him and he recognized Mari's presence. "They don't let you smoke onboard," she huffed, a cigarette to her lips.

"No one forced you to come," Vitya said, eyebrow raised.

"Of course I came," she said flatly, tapping his shoulder lazily. "Toshiya was my father too."

"Sister, kindly avoid using my lapdog as an armrest, if you don't mind," Yuuri said, adjusting his glasses as he stepped out of the car. She laughed.

"Relax, little brother," she said, grinning. "I'm not going to steal him from you, no need to be jealous." She winked at Viktor. "Besides, you might be handsome, brother-in-law, but you're not quite my type."

"Heh, good to know, _Ane-ue,_ " Viktor smiled, brushing her off gently.

"Now _that_ one," she said in an undertone, pointing at Roma with the butt of her cigarette. "That one is a _rosuke_ I would not mind getting to know."

"Ah, Roma is married," Vitya said.

"So? Mistresses exist for a reason."

"He is fiercely devoted to her. And to their son. Believe me, he won't be interested," he shrugged.

"Hmm, it still seems like it might be fun to try," she said, a wicked grin lighting up her face.

Yuuri gave her a slightly exasperated expression. "Somehow, sister, I feel like I may have had a mistaken first impression of you."

"Nope, not a mistake," she said, taking a long drag and blowing out the smoke.

"Care to explain?"

She clicked her tongue. "Fine." A moment later she dropped her cigarette and crushed it beneath her heel. "I'm sure you know that leading a criminal family comes with certain expectations you're supposed to bear."

"Of course," he said, his expression betraying nothing. Viktor had to contain the urge to take Yuuri's fingers in his own.

"Well imagine those expectations made a hundred times heavier because your gender is still discriminated against for absolutely no reason," she turned to spit on the concrete irritably. "Imagine being told every day that you're unfit for life in the _yakuza_ , that no matter how hard you train you'll never match up to a man for strength or courage or willpower. Now imagine proving those bastards wrong, and still being judged for every little thing about yourself that reminds people that you're a woman. Imagine being treated with contempt just because you have feminine qualities. Everything I do has to be done _just right_ , because as a woman I'm expected to fail to be as strong or as capable as a man, and if I act even the least bit feminine, I'm also considered unworthy for the position I earned. I wasn't joking when I said I had to break my men in," she said angrily. "Though there are a few decent ones in the bunch who came to ask me to inherit the Katsuki clan, many of them were skeptical that I could do it. And many of them only follow me now because I have to be the sort of woman who would kill them for looking at me the wrong way. The Katsuki Mari you met in Hasetsu is only a small part of who I am, the part who's had to hide the daughter my mother so carefully raised."

Viktor felt a stab of sympathy for her. It was not a situation he could easily imagine for himself; despite the beauty he'd inherited from his mother, he'd always been taken seriously as a man when it came down to it. He wasn't anywhere as near as androgynous as Antona, and no matter how good-looking he was, the fact was that he wasn't a woman, and he had never felt like one either. He couldn't imagine what it might be like to live under the expectations that Mari had to carry.

But when he glanced over to see what Yuuri thought, he saw a much different expression in those brown eyes. It wasn't pity, or even concern, and there was a soft, sad look on his face.

 _Empathy_ , Viktor thought, and his heart squeezed painfully.

"Is this the real you, then?" Yuuri asked, his tone almost gentle.

"I wouldn't say that," Mari said, giving him a rueful smile. "The _yakuza_ leader is still an integral part of who I am, it's not like it goes away when I'm not surrounded by my men." She dug her hands into the pocket of her coat, stifling a yawn. "But it's not like there isn't more to me than just that, and since you're my brother, I don't mind showing you."

"I see... Thank you for that... Mari."

It was the first time he'd ever called her by name.

 _Yuuri..._

"Ah," Mari said, a surprised but warm look coming over her Japanese features. A moment later, she chuckled. "You know, you can deny it all you want, Yuuri, but you really are the same little boy I always wanted to grow up with."

She didn't wait for him to reply before she was off, her heels clacking on the asphalt as she made her way toward the terminal.

* * *

 **They drove in silence the next morning, Yuuri too ashamed to speak to Nikita after their conversation the night before. He had listened to Yuuri's request that they talk outside in private despite the hour, and he had sat quietly on the porch stairs while Yuuri slowly forced himself to relive his pain and fear aloud.**

 **"Please don't tell Father or Mama," he whispered once he'd finished, his voice trembling as his eyes filled with tears. Nikita pressed a firm hand to his shoulder.**

 **"If that's what you really want, Yuuri, I promise I won't. But for tonight, you need to rest. We will discuss this tomorrow," he'd said. Exhausted mentally and physically, Yuuri had nodded and allowed Nikita to steer him back into the house.**

 **But when Yuuri was picked up in the morning, Nikita made no move to show that they'd spoken at all. He was as polite and reserved as always, and Yuuri had began to wonder if he hadn't dreamt their conversation when he suddenly realized that they were heading in the wrong direction.**

 **"Ni-Nikita, you were supposed to turn left," he said, staring out the backseat window in confusion.**

 **"No, this is the right way," Nikita said evenly. "We're not going to the school today."**

 **"We're... not?"**

 **"No."**

 **Despite the sharp pain still present in his lower back, Yuuri shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had always striven to be a good student and a heavy weight of guilt settled in his stomach at the thought of skipping classes.**

 _ **It's not like the teachers will care,**_ **he thought, trying to make himself feel better.** ** _Even when I'm there, they always find something to mark me down for..._**

 **"Are... we going far?" he asked.**

 **"No, just a clinic downtown," Nikita replied, his blue eyes flashing in the mirror.**

 **"No," Yuuri immediately said, fear coursing through his veins. "I don't want to see a doctor."**

 **"It's okay, Yuuri. This is a friend of mine. He owes me a favor, and he won't put anything in your medical records. You need to be examined and treated. I promise, no one will know."**

 ** _Treated and examined... Like a dog._**

 **Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek, but he said nothing.**

 **About ten minutes later they pulled up to a small, shabby building and Nikita parked the car discreetly in a lot hidden behind an alley. He opened the door for Yuuri and locked the car, motioning for Yuuri to follow.**

 **"This is... a clinic?" Yuuri asked nervously. The lot felt somehow sinister; it was an odd space, surrounded by dingy apartments and businesses, and there was a distinct gloomy air about it. The doors facing them were obviously not meant for customers; they were covered in graffiti and small, not at all welcoming. A pair of overfilled dumpsters sat in the corner, and the air smelled somewhat rank.**

 **"That one is," Nikita said, gesturing at one of the doors near the alleyway. "Though this is the back entrance. Patients don't usually come in through here."**

 **"Oh..."**

 **He didn't ask any more questions as Nikita strode up to the door and knocked firmly. A moment later a tall man in a rather battered lab coat opened the door, staring down at them.**

 **"You again?" he grunted, obviously displeased. He didn't look like any doctor Yuuri had ever known. His eyes were green and cold, hidden behind a pair of busted spectacles. There was an ugly gash on his cheek, and his light brown hair looked rather matted.**

 **"Sorry to show up unannounced," Nikita said, shrugging.**

 **The man snorted. "You never give me any warning, don't make it sound like you do." He seemed to notice Yuuri and frowned. "What's with the Asian kid?"**

 **"The son of a friend," Nikita said firmly, taking Yuuri's shoulder and bringing him forward. Yuuri tried not to look at the doctor's eyes, his cheeks red with shame. "He's the reason we're here."**

 **The man looked Yuuri up and down, then sighed a moment later. "Fine, whatever. Come in then, and careful with the door, it doesn't close right."**

 **They followed him into a rather dim hallway. Yuuri saw a bright, open space at the end of the hall, but instead of heading there the doctor turned to the left, holding a plain brown door open for them.**

 **"In here then," he grunted, turning the light on. Yuuri could tell it was an examination room, and unlike the doctor, it was clean and neat. Several medical posters hung from the whitewashed walls, and a cabinet filled with supplies took up the back wall. A table and a couple of chairs and a sink made up the rest of the furniture. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room until Nikita nudged him toward the examination table.**

 **"Over there,** ** _maloi_** **," he said. Yuuri started at the rather rude word, but then realized that Nikita was probably trying to keep their real relationship discreet. He climbed onto the table, feeling sick to his stomach.**

 **The doctor closed the door behind them and took a seat on a stool next to the table.**

 **"Alright then, Nikita, what's wrong with him?" he asked bluntly, eyeing Yuuri with mild interest.**

 **"Physical and sexual assault," Nikita said calmly. Yuuri dug his fingernails into his palms and drew in on himself, wishing he could melt away as the man's eyes bore into him.**

 _ **Don't look... please...**_

 **"Fuck, you see the same shit everywhere in this business," the doctor grunted. He stood up and walked over to the cabinet, pulling out a pair of gloves. "Strip,** ** _maloi."_**

 **Yuuri winced at the command, and he had to force himself not to panic as he pulled his uniform off slowly.**

 _ **It's not the same, it's not the same... Don't cry, don't!**_

 **The doctor gave one look at his scars and bruises and hissed in shock. "Jesus Christ, what the fuck did they do to him?!" he asked, clearly concerned.**

 **"The scars are unrelated," Nikita explained, pulling out a cigarette as he watched the examination. "Just treat him for the sores and lacerations, Fyodor."**

 **"I didn't go to medical school so I could see the fucked up shit people do to kids," the man muttered as he motioned for Yuuri to lie down. He was surprisingly gentle; he avoided using too much pressure and asked Yuuri if it hurt when he pressed on the boy's abdomen.**

 **But as he continued the examination, Yuuri began to hyperventilate, his vision growing dark around the edges.**

 _ **"N-no!"**_ **he cried when Fyodor tugged at his boxers. He pulled away from the doctor frantically, trembling all over, his heart beating much too fast.**

 **"It's alright," the doctor said, trying to soothe him. "I know it's frightening, but I have to take a look. You could be bleeding intern-"**

 **"No,** ** _don't touch me!"_** **Yuuri wailed, backing up against the wall like a frightened animal as he huddled in on himself. He couldn't see through the tears.**

 **"Nikita, give me a hand!"**

 _ **"No! Mama, Father! Vitya!"**_

 **A strong pair of hands took his wrists, and Yuuri fought frantically to free himself.**

 **"Please, Yuuri! If you don't get examined, you could get very sick!" Nikita said, concerned.**

 _ **"Noooo!"**_

 **The rest was a blur. He could no longer see clearly, could no longer judge what was happening as he struggled. There was a sharp pain on his thigh, and not long after, he began to lose consciousness. The last thing he saw were a pair of clear, beautiful blue eyes above him.**

 _ **Vit...ya? Somehow, you're...**_

 **But he wasn't able to finish the thought before everything went dark.**

* * *

"Bloody hell, we're going to miss the performance!"

Roma was looking through his phone with a scowl on his face, his legs crossed irritably in his seat. They were all seated in a corner of the waiting area, away from the other passengers as they waited for the plane to begin boarding. Viktor knew they were attracting some attention; with the exception of Mari, who had decided to wear casual clothes, all of the Russians were wearing dress shirts or full suits. Even if they hadn't stood out as foreigners, it would take an extraordinary fool to mistake them for businessmen.

"We can't help it if the flight is delayed," Petya shrugged, leaning back with his arms behind his head. "Even the chief can't control the weather, can you, sir?"

"Unfortunately not," Yuuri replied, reading through a newspaper lazily. Viktor glanced at the headline, but his Japanese wasn't nearly advanced enough to make out the kanji.

"I know, but we already had to go through that whole hassle to get through security..." Roma groaned. In order to get their weapons into the airport, they'd used some of Mari's connections to pass the inspection point, though it had still taken some time to get the Russian passports screened through.

"Would you rather be arrested?" Yuuri asked, looking up at Roma pointedly.

"O-of course not," he muttered, typing something into his phone.

"It's only a two hour flight," Mari said as she peered over Yuuri's shoulder. "I don't understand what the fuss is about."

"The Rostelecom Cup starts today," Alyosha said brightly from across the way. Unlike Roma and the others, he'd plopped himself down on the floor so as to better access the charging docks for his laptop.

"The what cup?"

"Rostelecom Cup," Yuuri explained. "It's a figure skating competition."

"Not just any competition!" Roma insisted nervously. "It's one of the qualifying events for the Grand Prix Series, and this is Yuri's first year in the senior division!"

"Yuuri?" Mari asked, confused.

"Not me," Yuuri said, an amused smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Yuri Plisetsky. He's one of Russia's up and coming professional skaters, and Roma's son."

"Every year, we go and cheer for Yuratchka," Petya said, waving his hand. "The entire inner circle goes in person to all of his events, when we can. We've been doing it since Mikhail Yemelyanovich was _pakhan_. It's tradition now."

"And nobody thinks it's... odd that the mafia shows up to all these skating events?" Mari snorted. "Aren't they worried about bribes or gambling scandals?"

"I have no idea what they think," Viktor shrugged. "But we can promise you we don't interfere in any way. Roma would kill us if we did."

"Hmph, Yuri doesn't need help to win gold," Roma sniffed proudly. "He's worked hard all these years on his own, and the results speak for themselves. Now if _only this stupid stream would load!"_

He muttered angrily to himself as he fiddled with his phone, and Alyosha laughed.

"Hold on, I'll try to configure something for you," he said, humming as he tapped away at his keyboard.

"It does feel odd, not going to the event this time," Antosha said quietly as she rolled a cigarette. She never smoked brand tobacco.

"Right? I bet Georgi and Rodya are getting shit drunk without us," Petya sighed. "And who even knows what Mila Yakovich is doing..."

"If that woman even _thinks_ about bribing the judges..." growled Roma.

"I don't think she would; but just in case, I specifically warned her not to," Yuuri said. "I also told her not to start any unnecessary fights, like she did last year."

"To be fair, sir, last year she had cause," Alyosha said as he turned the laptop toward Roma. "Here, this is the best I can do. Seems like they haven't started yet."

"Arrogant British bastards, they won't be trying that this year," Viktor huffed.

"Huh? What happened?" Mari asked, clearly curious.

"The British contender during the Junior Grand Prix last year tried to push Yuri down a flight of stairs," Yuuri said as he folded his newspaper neatly away and handed it to Viktor. "Let's just say his legs never set properly, after Mila was through with him."

"The more I hear about this _obshchak_ of yours, the more terrifying she sounds," Mari noted, chuckling. "I'd love to meet her."

"I'm sure you would get along," Viktor smiled. "She's quite friendly and easy to like, as long as you don't cross her. Or try to cheat her out of money."

"Or fuck with Yuri," Roma said, his eyes fixed on the screen. "They're only three years apart, and she was the former _obshchak's_ adopted daughter, so they grew up together. She was pissed to hear that someone had tried to sabotage him. Oh, damn, that Thai skater looks pretty good..." he muttered to himself.

"What, they're starting the short programs?" Petya asked, leaning over to take a look.

"No, still warming up," Alyosha replied.

"Ask Yulia to get a recording," Viktor said, looking up at the screens that announced the departures. "Looks like we're boarding soon, so I doubt we'll get to see the actual routines."

Roma sighed, looking put-out. "Yes, sir."

* * *

 **The light was too bright.**

 **Yuuri winced as he came to, his eyes aching as he tried to open them. His body felt heavy, and he couldn't remember where he was. He covered his face with his hands and realized he was dressed.**

 _ **Wasn't I... naked?**_ **he thought dully as the sleeve of his uniform rubbed against his cheek.**

 **"Oh, Yuuri, you're awake."**

 **He turned his head slightly, though his neck was aching. He recognized that he was lying in a bed somewhere, and that the voice was coming from Nikita, who was standing in the doorway, watching him.**

 **"How are you feeling?" he asked as he came forward, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.**

 **"Feel...ing?" Yuuri asked. He coughed, his throat dry.**

 **"Here, have some water," Nikita insisted, reaching for a glass on the bedside table. Yuuri didn't recognize the room at all, though it didn't look anything like a hospital bed. Nikita helped him sit up carefully before giving him the water.**

 **"Where are we?" Yuuri asked after taking a drink.**

 **"Above the clinic," Nikita explained. "Fyodor let me move you up here when he was done treating you. You had a panic attack in the middle, so we sedated you for a couple of hours. I'm sorry about being so rough," he said gently. "It was important to make sure you weren't bleeding."**

 **"Oh..." Yuuri said, staring down at his hands. He felt ashamed and dirty, and he found he couldn't look into those eyes without pain welling up in his stomach.**

 **"It seems that other than the visible injuries, you're fine," NIkita continued. "But now we have another thing to discuss." He crossed his arms, staring out the window thoughtfully. "I promised I wouldn't tell Mikhail, but that doesn't tell me what** ** _you_** **want to do about this, Yuuri."**

 **Yuuri furrowed his brow, confused. "Me?"**

 **"Yes. What do you want to do about the bastards who did this to you?" His blue eyes locked onto Yuuri's, his gaze steely and cold.**

 **Yuuri was suddenly afraid.**

 **"I... I don't want to do anything," he muttered, fidgeting with his hands. "I just want them to leave me alone..."**

 **"They won't," Nikita said bluntly. "Those boys think they own you now,** ** _maloi._** **They never left you alone before, and they won't now that you've become their bitch. It will only get worse unless you show them that you do not belong to them."**

 **"But... I can't fight back on my own," Yuuri said, his throat tight. "I'm too weak... I'm useless..."**

 **Nikita sighed.**

 **"Yuuri, Mikhail gave you to me for a reason," he said, his tone growing stern. "You know what that is, don't you?"**

 **"Mm... to train me to join the** ** _bratva..."_** **he replied quietly.**

 **"And to take my place as** ** _sovietnik_** **when Viktor Mikhailovich succeeds as** ** _pakhan_** **."**

 **"...Mm."**

 **"And do you believe you can do that?"**

 **The question was so straightforward that Yuuri wasn't sure how to reply. In the end, he shook his head softly, the tears welling up in the back of his throat.**

 **"No. I don't think you can either," Nikita said firmly. "But not for the reasons you think." He took Yuuri's chin and forced him to look up. The boy blinked, shocked at the sudden movement. Nikita's face was deadly serious, that cold look in his eyes boring through him. Yuuri couldn't muster the courage to speak.**

 **"Listen, Yuuri," Nikita said firmly. "The job of a** ** _sovietnik_** **is to serve and protect his master. You do not exist, except as his dog. What the** ** _pakhan_** **wants, the** ** _sovietnik_** **and** ** _obshchak_** **provide, no matter the price." He pressed a finger to Yuuri's stomach. "You say you are dirty? Well you are,** ** _maloi._** **You are as filthy as they come, from the tips of your fingers to the roots of your hair. You're a mongrel, a weakling, not even good enough to be a dog."**

 **His grip tightened around Yuuri's jaw.**

 **"A** ** _sovietnik_** **is dirtier still," he said coldly. "Our bodies, our hands, and our souls... we're covered in so much filth that I doubt there's a place in hell for sinners as revolting as us. But because we live for someone else, it doesn't matter how disgusting we are. We are worth nothing, but that is where our strength lies. If you are to take my place, you have to understand that you are worthless, and that you will only become dirtier still.**

 **"Your strength will come from knowing that your body, your filthy worthless body, will serve Viktor Mikhailovich someday. In his name, you will be covered in blood, and you will hurt, but it is all pain that you will shoulder for his sake. That's the strength you need, and the kind of strength that you'll need to deal with the bastards who hurt you this time. You must show that you are not afraid of your own disgusting self, and you must not be afraid to grow even dirtier. Now, tell me again," he said, releasing Yuuri. His cheeks felt sore from the pressure of Nikita's fingers, but he couldn't look away. "Will you let those boys walk away with this, so they can fuck you at their leisure? Or will you hate them and dirty your hands with that hate?"**

 **Something hot trailed down Yuuri's cheeks, but for the first time in his life, the tears were fueled by fire and anger instead of fear. Nikita seemed to understand.**

 **"Good," he nodded, his expression stern. "As your mentor, I will help you."**

* * *

Yuuri was finding it difficult to relax. Though the flight was fairly short, he felt as though time was stretching on and on while they waited for the boarding to finish and the pilot to take off.

The others didn't seem to notice, though they were spread out enough in first class that it didn't particularly matter. Mari had taken a liking to Antona and had decided to sit with her despite the latter's serious demeanor, and the rest of the _avtoriyets_ were seated on the other side of the cabin. Only Viktor, seated as always at his side, was close enough to pay attention.

 _And Vitya always pays attention_ , he sighed, feeling the eyes in the back of his head as he stared out the window. As if on queue, Viktor pressed his hand over Yuuri's fingers.

"You're anxious," he murmured quietly so that only Yuuri could hear.

"No," Yuuri said, but it was a poorly told lie.

"Yura, I'm not a complete idiot," he said, and Yuuri could hear the smile in his voice. "Besides, I know this affects you the most, but I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't feel anything at all about meeting Ji Liuxian."

"We don't know that he'll be able to tell us anything about Father," Yuuri warned, turning to face Vitya. "He said he had information about Toshiya, not the Nikiforovs."

"Even if he doesn't know why Father died, at the very least it will be a step closer to finding out the truth," Viktor said grimly. "I'm sure Mother would be glad of any news, at this rate..."

Yuuri cast his gaze out the window again.

"Only Mother would ask her sons to find her husband's killer as her dying wish," he said flatly. "We would have been glad to stay by her side instead."

"She was never that sort of woman," Viktor replied, unable to hide the pain in his voice. "She was always the matriarch of the _bratva,_ and you can be sure she won't die before we've gone back with the answers."

"I know," Yuuri said. "She raised me for over ten years, after all. And the doctors say it will take several months before the cancer finishes spreading. I'm not worried about running out of time."

"Mm, I know that. But you are worried about _something_ , Yura. I can tell."

"If I wanted someone to tell me how I was feeling, I would go to a therapist," Yuuri snorted, pulling his hand away. "Which, by the way, Vitya, you are not."

"No, but it's my job to protect you, Yuratchka." He pressed a gentle hand to Yuuri's cheek, his thumb brushing his skin softly. His eyes were warm and gentle, and Yuuri felt his resolve weakening under them.

 _Don't look at me like that,_ he thought, his heart aching. _Don't make me dirty you more than I already have._

But as Viktor leaned in for a kiss, Yuuri found that he couldn't pull away. He wasn't sure that he wanted to.

"So I _will_..." Viktor whispered, pressing their foreheads together a moment later. "Especially from yourself."

* * *

 **Viktor cut his hair a few days after his arrest.**

 **"Are you sure, Vitya?" his aunt asked as she combed through his hair. "You took such good care of it for all these years," she said wistfully as she ran her fingers through the pale strands.**

 **"Yeah..." he said, staring at himself in the mirror. He hadn't slept in days, and there were black circles under his eyes to prove it. "I want to start taking my responsibilities seriously," he added, but his voice echoed oddly in his ears, as if someone else were speaking.**

 **"If you're certain," Lena said, biting her lip. She held the scissors up, wincing when she cut through the first handful. "Oh... I know it's for your own safety, but it still hurts to cut such lovely hair..." she bemoaned.**

 **"It'll be fine, Aunt Lena," Viktor said, smiling sadly at her in the mirror. "It's not like I'll be any less beautiful without it." She gave a small laugh.**

 **"If you can still preen like a peacock, Vitya, I'm sure you'll be fine," she said, patting his shoulder gently. "I'm not part of the** ** _bratva_** **, but you're not the first young man I've seen come back from the front lines with that shocked look in your eyes. It isn't an easy life, but I'm proud of you for accepting it even so."**

 _ **No, Aunt Lena,**_ **Vitya thought as she worked her way through the long mane of hair, the silver-like strands falling to the ground like spider's silk.** ** _You're wrong._**

 ** _I never took my role seriously. I thought I was playing some sort of game, just like Father said all those years ago. I didn't realize I was hurting people, or that I would have to watch people suffer and die. I'm terrified of being powerless again._**

 ** _But I'm even more afraid to admit that I want to run. In the end, I'm nothing but a coward._**

 ** _There's nothing to be proud of._**

* * *

 **Yuuri never knew how Nikita managed to kidnap five boys in broad daylight. He had forbidden Yuuri from coming along, for fear of being caught, and he refused to explain how he'd gotten them all to trust him long enough to get them alone. When he was done, he threw the lot of them in the backseat, knocked out cold. Yuuri stared at them in the mirror from passenger seat, fear and adrenaline surging through his veins at the sight of his tormentors tied and gagged.**

 **"W-Won't their parents come looking for them?" he asked nervously as Nikita drove them out of the city.**

 **"We'll return them, in time," Nikita said cryptically. Yuuri was burning to ask more, but he held his tongue.**

 **One of the boys started to stir.**

 **"Is the chloroform wearing off?" he asked, and Yuuri nodded. "Shame, they'll probably start shouting soon. We're almost there, though."**

 **Less than five minutes later, he pulled up to a warehouse. It was in an industrial section on the outskirts of St. Petersburg, long abandoned since the Soviet days. The warehouse's windows were all broken, the walls covered in tags and dirt. His heart sank.**

 _ **I just want to go home,**_ **he thought, feeling ill. In truth, his initial enthusiasm and fury had begun to fade, and he felt like he hadn't quite understood just what Nikita meant by 'dirtying his hands' when he'd asked Yuuri what he wanted to do.**

 **"I'll carry them in," Nikita said as he opened the car door. "Open the trunk and take the box you find inside," he ordered. Yuuri nodded, his palms sweaty as he pushed the door open.**

 **The box turned out to be a toolbox, and it was heavier than Yuuri thought. In the time it took him to pull it from the trunk and drag it into the warehouse, Nikita had brought in his classmates and tied them securely to a beam in the center of the wide, uncomfortably high room. The rest of the place was empty, the floor covered in dust and some odd, discolored stains.**

 **"Here, Yuuri," Nikita said, taking the box from him and settling it in front of the boys. They were all conscious now, their eyes frightened as they watched Nikita and Yuuri come toward them. Yuuri averted his gaze, staring down at the floor, his heart in his mouth. "Which is the leader?"**

 **"Th-the tallest one," Yuuri muttered.**

 **Nikita nodded and sunk to the floor in front of Dmitriy, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it before addressing him.**

 **"So. You must be Dima," he said, blowing the smoke into the boy's face. Dmitriy winced, and Yuuri could tell he was shaking with fear. Nikita took his chin, not unlike he had with Yuuri the day before, turning it to get a better look at his features. "Not the face you'd expect from a rapist, though it's hard to tell with your sort," he said coolly. "They say younger boys don't deserve to be held accountable for the stupid shit they do when they're young, but perhaps,** ** _maloi_** **, you should have checked to see who you were raping first, hmm?"**

 **Without warning, he grabbed the boy by the hair, pulling his head back all the way.**

 **"Yuuri, come here," he barked, and Yuuri hurried forward, too scared to disobey. Nikita yanked Dmitriy's head to look at him. "I heard, you know. That your teachers never call this boy by his full name because they don't think he deserves it. And he's been kind enough to never correct anyone for using the wrong one."**

 **Dmitriy's eyes stared frantically at Yuuri, as if they were begging for help. Yuuri tried to look away, but Nikita didn't let him.**

 **"No, tell him, Yuuri. Your full name, face to face," he said firmly.**

 **"Y...Yuri Katsuki... Ni...Nikifor...ov," he managed to say.**

 **"You heard him. Now, what else comes to mind when you hear the name 'Nikiforov,' Dima?" Nikita crooned. "You're thinking it must be a coincidence, right? That a frail little** ** _yaposhka_** **could have a name like that? Surely he's not involved with the** ** _bratva_** **, hmm?" He let go of Dmitriy's hair, but only to give him a heavy blow across the face with his open palm.**

 **The boy made an agonized sound, strangled by the cloth in his mouth, and Yuuri shut his eyes tightly, wishing he were anywhere else.**

 **"Well, you fucking trash, you sure didn't think things through, did you?" Nikita spat. "You saw a weak little kid and you thought he would be an easy target, huh? You and your friends are about to find out what happens when you fuck with the Nikiforov clan." He lowered his voice, pulling his cigarette from his mouth. "Be glad; I don't kill kids, but I don't promise you'll be going home in one piece."**

 **He pressed the butt to Dmitriy's face and a horrible, muffled scream echoed through the empty warehouse. Yuuri pressed his hands to his ears desperately, trying to drown it out.**

 **"No," Nikita said, pulling his hands away. "No more hiding, Yuuri," he said. His tone was firm but not unkind, and a moment later something cold and metallic was pressed into his palm. Yuuri looked down to see a long, sharp knife.**

 _ **N...no!**_

 **"I can't," he said desperately, trying to push the knife back at Nikita. "I don't want to hurt them!"**

 **"Yuuri," Nikita said, taking him by the shoulders. "You deserve this. They deserve this. You are Yuri Mikhailovich, the second son of the Nikiforov family, and your place is at Viktor's side. If you want to keep that place, you have to prove you are willing to do what it takes to earn it."**

 **"B...but..."**

 **"You are already dirty, Yuratchka," Nikita said, brushing the boy's hair back gently. "They dirtied you, and it's time to stop being afraid. This is your birthright."**

 **Yuuri clutched the knife tightly, his thoughts muddled and confused. He was angry, yes, and afraid... but as those familiar eyes pressed him on, as Nikita's voice instructed him on the technique, something else began to take form in his heart.**

 **It was only when he saw the fear and horror in his tormentor's eyes, only when the screams of pain became familiar to his ears, and only once he'd cut through the sinew and bone and Dmitriy's finger came away in his hand that he was able to put a name to the emotion.**

 _ **Pleasure.**_

 **"You see?" Nikita said, prying the finger and knife from his hands. "You had the strength all along, Yuratchka."**

 **Yuuri stared down at his hands, covered in blood. He was sure his clothes and face were spattered too; he'd wiped his face more than once with the effort of cutting through the bone.**

 **"I'm... dirty," he said blankly, unsure what to say or feel. Nikita's expression softened and he reached out to cup Yuuri's face.**

 **"You are," he said. Those eyes were so much like Vitya's, so bright and kind... but as they held Yuuri's gaze, the same odd thought he'd had in the clinic floated to the surface.**

 _ **They're just like Vitya's... but there's something... wrong... about them...**_

 **"You're dirty, Yuratchka," he repeated, his thumb caressing Yuuri's cheek with that strange look in his eye. "But you're beautiful."**

* * *

 **Notes:**

WHY AM I LIKE THIS?

So, I just discovered that publishing fics as doujinshi is a thing, so I may or may not consider doing that with a fully edited and completed version of SepAnx if people like it enough and are interested in having physical copies (for whatever twisted reasons that I cannot honestly denounce because, lmao, I'm writing it). If I decide to do that at some point, I'll link to my tumblr with the details.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading, and as always, I hope you'll reach out to me and let me know what you thought!

 **Translation Notes:**

1) _Maloi_ is a slightly rude term to refer to a kid, though not quite out of place in this context.

2) It's respectful to refer to one's boss by their first name and patronymic (based on the father's) name. The "Yamelyanovich" is Mikhail's patronymic name.


	9. Shanghai

**To Yuuri's surprise, Nikita didn't ask him to do much after he'd cut off Dmitriy's finger. It wasn't that he wasn't willing to, either; something about seeing his longtime tormentor screaming instead of him had woken a fire in Yuuri's heart, a deep sense of satisfaction and excitement that he couldn't remember ever feeling before. It didn't matter that it should have sickened him to hold a dismembered finger, or that there was a strange, warm clarity as he looked down at the bleeding stump on Dmitriy's hand, both things that would have normally made Yuuri retch in horror and disgust. For the first time in his life, Yuuri felt powerful, in control.**

 _ **Beautiful,**_ **he thought as he watched Nikita go to work on the rest of the boys, his eyes unable to look away from those skillful, large hands as they wielded the knife with expert precision.** ** _He said I was beautiful, even though I'm covered in blood, even though my body is dirty and scarred... He touched me, even though he knows how disgusting I am..._**

 **He swallowed the lump in his throat.** ** _Nikita thinks I'm beautiful._**

 ** _No one has ever called me that._**

 **"Yuuri, you can go to the car and clean yourself up," Nikita said calmly as he nonchalantly sliced off one of the boys' ears. The muffled screams were frantic, animalistic, but Yuuri found that he didn't mind them in the least.**

 **"You... don't need any help?" Yuuri asked, carefully.**

 **Nikita gave him a slightly amused smile. "I'm glad to hear you're eager, but I don't want to push you too hard all at once. You've done enough for today. There are some towels and a gallon of water in the trunk, use them to get the blood off."**

 **"...Okay."**

 **He turned away from the nightmarish scene as if it were something normal, something he had no moral objections to. The screams continued even as he walked outside, but Yuuri merely inspected his hands in the sunlight.**

 _ **Oh... I cut myself a**_ _ **bit,**_ **he realized. There was a jagged line down his palm, his own blood mingling with Dmitriy's. He didn't feel any pain at all.**

 **He didn't really feel anything.**

 **Numb, he did as Nikita had suggested. For the second time that week, he found himself cleaning blood off his body, the water washing the red stains away with ease. It was almost surprising how white his skin looked underneath it; he'd never really looked at it closely before, but he could see the blue of his veins on his wrists crisscrossing delicately just beneath the surface.**

 _ **It looks the same as theirs,**_ **he thought, thinking back to the sinew and vessels he'd cut through in Dima's hand.** ** _But it isn't. Yaposhka blood is different, isn't it...?_**

 ** _Even if they hadn't dirtied me... I was never like them to begin with..._**

 **A voice echoed in his ears, a voice long engraved into his mind. It revisited him often in his dreams, dreams of burning flesh and screams, dreams of pain and unbearable heat.**

 _ **"It's your own fault for being born a Katsuki anyway."**_

 **He hardly noticed when Nikita came up next to him.**

 **"Yuratchka, are you alright?" he asked, his tone concerned. Yuuri gave a start, his heart in his mouth.**

 **"O-oh..." he managed to say. "Mm... Are you... is it over?"**

 **"Yes, I'm calling the police in a moment, once I toss the body parts somewhere," Nikita said, glancing back at the warehouse. "We don't want them to to die on us; that's too easy a way out after what they did. But we also don't want the doctors to reattach anything." He turned back to Yuuri and pried the wet towel out of his fingers gently. "Here, you still have blood on your cheeks," he said, leaning in to wipe it off. Yuuri winced slightly at the pressure but didn't complain.**

 **"Thank you," Yuuri muttered when he was done, looking down at the ground. Nikita lifted his chin.**

 **"No, be proud,** ** _maloi,"_** **he said firmly. "Don't ever look down, unless your master commands it."**

 **"My... master?"**

 **"Your** ** _pakhan,_** **Yuratchka. Viktor Mikhailovich. Today you proved you have the fangs to be at his side, and no matter how much dirtier you become, you have to remember that there is a beauty and honor in living for his sake. You must be proud of being his, and you must be his teeth and claws, regardless of how repulsive and filthy you are."**

 **"B... but Vitya... he wouldn't..."**

 **"Wouldn't call you dirty? Not to your face, no," Nikita said, eyes narrowed. "Or at least, he wouldn't if he didn't know the truth. You understand, right? Why those boys did what they did?"**

 **Yuuri's chest ached.**

 **"Because... because I'm not Russian..."**

 **"Yes, and no," Nikita said, putting the towel aside and closing the trunk as he spoke. "It's because you're you. Because you are a** ** _yaposhka_** **, and also because you have always been sweet and kind and docile. You let them hurt you. You drove them to do it, when you didn't fight back. That was your own sin, your own taint, Yuuri. You think Viktor Mikhailovich would be proud to know that?"**

 **Yuuri clenched his fist tightly. "...No."**

 **Nikita's paused, his expression softening as he pressed a warm hand to Yuuri's hair.**

 **"Listen, Yuuri. What you did today is the first step to redeeming yourself. You can't cleanse your sins, but you can accept them and use them for Viktor's sake. I know how much you look up to him. Don't you want to be useful?"**

 **The boy swallowed, his throat thick with emotion.**

 **"Y-yes... I'll try..." Yuuri said softly. Nikita smiled.**

 **"Good. We will work on that."**

 **As Nikita dialed the police in the car, Yuuri glanced at his reflection in the side mirror. His brown eyes stared back, oddly serene. If dirtying his hands meant becoming useful, if it meant he could find a place in the family he'd so long felt left out of, then perhaps becoming a dog wasn't such a terrible option.**

 _ **And I can help Vitya.**_

 **He turned to see Nikita watching him in the rear-view mirror.**

 **"Shall we go, Yuratchka?"**

 **"Mm," he said. The odd look Yuuri had seen earlier seemed to have vanished, leaving only the kind blue eyes he missed so much.**

 _ **I belong to those eyes now,**_ **he thought.** _**I belong to Vitya.**_

* * *

It was raining in Shanghai when they arrived that evening. The city seemed to glow, the harsh lighting softened somewhat by the steady rainfall as it pattered over the streets and skyscrapers on the horizon. The sea was dark, impossible to make out in the darkness, though the airport was close enough that it was possible to hear the faint crashing of the waves, drowned out by the sound of planes arriving and taking off.

Viktor was, as always, prepared to serve Yuuri's needs. As soon as they stepped outside the terminal, he pulled a collapsible umbrella out of his pocket and opened it, holding it out for Yuuri. Yuuri gave him a pointed, weary look but nevertheless stood under it.

"At least let me hold it," he muttered so only Viktor could hear, but Vitya clicked his tongue.

"No, it's my job."

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

The others came up behind them, opening their own umbrellas and buttoning up jackets. Antosha and Petya were sharing a single umbrella; despite their drunken arguments, they usually got along fine, especially since the bodyguard and assassination brigades often worked together. Once, Rodya from the Support group had asked them if they were going out, only to receive an icy cold look from Antona and a laugh from Petya.

 _"You're joking, right?"_ he'd said. _"Don't you know she gets a hell of a lot more ass than anyone else in the inner circle?"_

 _"Antosha?!"_ Rodya had exclaimed, staring at her stern face in disbelief. _"Who the fuck with?!"_

 _"Whoever is interested,"_ she'd said coldly, lighting a cigarette. _"I don't discriminate, but Pyotr is where I draw the line."_

 _"See? She makes a great wingman though,"_ Petya had grinned. That was the last time anyone asked them if they were an item.

Roma hadn't even bothered to buy an umbrella, but he was muttering to himself as he tried to connect to the internet on his phone. They'd almost certainly missed the short programs, but that didn't stop Roma from wanting to know the results. Just behind him, Alyosha was covered head to toe in an impermeable raincoat that he'd brought along to protect his equipment, just in case. He looked a bit like a child in an oversized poncho.

Mari took one look at Yuuri and Viktor as she snapped her umbrella open and groaned.

"Oh for the love of-! You're just going to hold it up for him the whole time?!" she asked irritably.

"You say it like it's strange," Viktor said, raising a perfect eyebrow. "Aren't subordinates supposed to look after their superiors?"

"Sure, _normal_ subordinates," she frowned, hand on her hip. "But he's your _husband_ ," she said sharply at Yuuri. "You're just going to let him stand in the rain while he keeps you dry?!"

Yuuri sighed. "It's not like I told him to stay out," he said, lighting a cigarette. "He's just stubborn."

"Well, if I get under too, my height makes it harder for him to stay dry," Vitya said, turning back toward Mari. "So I decided ages ago that it would be more efficient to just hold it for him. It's no big deal, we'll get dry sooner or later."

"So you keep saying, even though I'd be fine if we shared," Yuuri scoffed, flicking the ashes onto the sidewalk. "You know, it's supposed to be _romantic_ , sharing an umbrella."

"You know what isn't romantic? Having to look after you when you're sick."

"Well neither is seeing you mope around listlessly when you have a fever. You're like an overgrown child."

"Oh, just shut up and accept the umbrella already," Viktor muttered. Yuuri snorted but didn't scold him for his tone.

Petya chuckled. "Whenever I see this, I wonder what the rest of the _bratva_ would think if they knew our _pakhan_ and _sovietnik_ bicker like any other couple."

"Pyotr!" Antona hissed, but Yuuri didn't seem to mind.

"That's not a problem," he said casually, staring off into the rain. "It's not unusual for the boss and his spies to be casual with one another. Besides, everyone assumes Vitya is the _pakhan_ anyway; I just look like a chauffeur... Isn't that right, Roma?" he asked, his brown eyes glancing at the _avtoriyet._ Vitya thought that in the light of the city, Yuuri's irises looked almost red, and he wasn't surprised to see Roma blanch under scrutiny.

"N-no, sir, of course not," he said, clumsily putting his phone away.

Viktor's mouth twitched. Roma had been one of the staunchest opponents to Yuuri becoming _pakhan_ , a fact that Yuuri often reminded him of when he felt like like taking the proud Russian down a peg. Now, however, Vitya could tell Yuuri was just having fun at their subordinate's expense.

 _Sadist,_ he thought, fighting back a small smile. _He's actually enjoying himself._ Viktor's eyes settled on the nape of Yuuri's neck, his thoughts drifting into an altogether different direction. He had a sudden urge to sink his teeth into the hollow at Yuuri's throat, to hear Yuuri make an appreciative noise and scold him for being a bad dog, looking over his shoulder sensually as he considered how best to punish Viktor.

Vitya was suddenly very, very warm.

 _Goddamn it, Yura, If only seeing you like this wasn't so damned sexy... I'm on the job for fuck's sake..._

He cleared his throat, trying to focus, trying not to think of the sorts of punishments he might get for biting his husband in public.

 _When did I become such a masochist?_ he groaned to himself.

"Th-There's no point standing around all night," he finally said, his mouth slightly dry as he reached into his pocket for his cellphone. "I'll get us a cab."

"Two," Alyosha reminded him, his arms obviously clutching his laptop to his chest beneath the raincoat.

"Right. Two cabs," Vitya muttered as the dial tone rang. He was unable to shake himself of the mental image where Yuuri was pressing him down firmly, his lips at Viktor's throat, his breath hot on his skin as he hesitated on purpose, dragging out the moment when he returned the bite, waiting for Viktor to beg for it first.

 _Fuck... it's been almost two days,_ he realized, frustrated. _I haven't been this long without sex in weeks._

* * *

 **"You got a lighter, Vitya?"**

 **Viktor blinked, pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Chris' voice next to him.**

 **"Huh?" he asked, confused. Chris grinned and gave him a friendly pat on his shoulder.**

 **"C'mon, get your head in the game," he said, exaggerating an American accent. "A lighter. You know, for smoking?"**

 **Viktor managed a grin. "No, sorry. I don't smoke, remember?"**

 **"Oh, right," Chris said, rummaging in his pockets. "Shit, I think I forgot mine," he mumbled. Viktor chanced a quick look around the corner, his palms slightly sweaty beneath his gloves as they gripped onto his Glock.**

 **"Doesn't look like they've moved," he noted, sighing. They were busting an unauthorized gambling parlor set up by a rival gang; negotiations had gone sour and the order from the higher ups was to collect the money they were owed by any means necessary.**

 **"Even if they did, it's not like we can do anything until we're ordered to," Chris shrugged, perfectly at ease as he leaned against the wall. "Why are you so nervous? It's not like this is your first raid."**

 **"I think the better question is why you're so calm," Viktor huffed. "You only just became a** ** _shetsyorka_** **a few months ago, you shouldn't even be on the front lines yet."**

 **"I guess the higher ups think I'm good in a crisis," Chris said, his green eyes shining with mischief.**

 **"You Swiss are bizarre," Viktor said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You and Aunt Lena are never fazed by anything."**

 **"What can I say? We've been neutral since 1815, and we survived two World Wars smack dab in the middle of Europe. The Swiss have a pretty high bullshit tolerance."**

 **"Hah, you talk like you actually grew up there, but you're even less Swiss than I am Russian."**

 **"Fair enough," Chris said cheerfully. "This is just how I am, I suppose. When that drug deal last month went south, I just did what I could to get us all out alive."**

 **"And we all appreciate it," Vitya said, brushing his hair back to wink at him. "Especially that cute** ** _boyevik_** **from the prostitution brigade... he asked for your number, even," he grinned.**

 **"Hmmm, but he's a bit older, you know?" Chris said, inspecting his fingernails lazily. "He could get in trouble with the law, eyeing an innocent little thing like me."**

 **Viktor laughed.**

 **"Innocent? You've broken more hearts than** ** _I_** **have," he said, the stress dissipating from his shoulders somewhat. "What was the latest count?"**

 **"Hmm, 12 girlfriends and 8 boyfriends," he calculated mentally. "It's not my fault... I tell them from the start that I'm not interested in anything serious, but they always get so angry when I flirt with someone else..."**

 **"Poor you," Viktor said drily. "At least you're good at handling break ups... I think my girlfriend wants to date someone else, but last time I assumed that, it turned out she was only testing me... I dunno if I should just support her or wha-"**

 **His phone vibrated in his pocket and he was suddenly reminded with a lurch that they were on duty.**

 **"Fuck," he muttered, his heart pounding as he took the call. "Yes?" he asked, adrenaline surging through him.**

 **"We're moving in, you and Chris are center stage," a brisk voice ordered.**

 **"Got it..." The line went dead immediately. He stared at the screen, knowing this might be the last chance he would get to reach anyone. His thumb hovered over the contacts button, thinking that he would at least like to leave his mother and little brother a goodbye.**

 _ **No, you're gonna make it out alive. You have to.**_

 **He took a deep breath, snapping the phone closed and tucking it back into his pocket. "We're on," he said to Chris, and his cousin nodded, pulling his black gloves back on.**

 **Viktor took one last glance around the wall; two bodyguards were standing outside the parlor, an obvious wall of muscle.**

 **"If they're not wearing bulletproof vests, I'll cut my own dick off," Chris said quietly from behind him. Vitya snorted but didn't reply; he was more preoccupied with a faint movement on a balcony not far to the left. It was hard to see from this distance, but he was sure that there was a small glint of light, probably off the scope of the rifle he knew was there.**

 **For a moment, everything was tense silence. Vitya's hand twitched, his mouth dry.**

 _ **Get a grip... you won't die here, you won't...**_

 **He was nearly eighteen, in his last year of high school, but he still woke up sweating in the middle of the night, remembering the girl he'd failed to protect, and he still hadn't been able to kill anyone when it came down to it.**

 _ **Coward,**_ **he told himself, clenching his teeth.** ** _You can't hesitate forever. Today you have to play your part._**

* * *

The cabs came to a stop just outside a rather flashy strip of buildings. Despite the heavy rain, the sidewalk was crowded, hundreds of umbrellas blooming in every color, dyeing the dark cityscape with life. Neon signs and bright window displays shone through the night, the light reflecting off the water and setting the road ablaze like a lake full of stars. Even from behind the tinted window, Yuuri couldn't help thinking that the effect was calming, almost hypnotic.

It seemed a rather odd place to meet with the former leader of a gang.

Viktor leaned forward, pressing a bill into the driver's palm.

 _"Xièxiè,"_ he said clumsily. A moment later he got out of the car, holding the door open for Yuuri.

"Watch your step," he warned, taking Yuuri's hand and pulling him safely over a rather large puddle and under the umbrella with him. There was a moment in which Yuuri was all but held against Viktor's chest, and Yuuri thought that Viktor's hold on him tightened for a second before he let go. The familiar heady scent of his cologne mixed with his natural musk filled Yuuri's lungs, catching him off guard.

"Yuuri?"

He looked up, blinking in surprise. Viktor was giving him a concerned look, and Yuuri realized that he had grabbed Vitya's sleeve out of reflex.

"Ah, sorry," he said, as neutrally as he could, letting go reluctantly. "I was just thinking that that fragrance suits you," he said, unable to hold Vitya's gaze.

Viktor grinned, leaning in and hiding them from view with the umbrella as Mari and the others stepped out of the cabs.

"You chose it, after all, Yura," he breathed, his voice hot against Yuuri's ear. Vitya only ever called him "Yura" in bed, and the sound of the name here, uttered in that deeply seductive voice in public, made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Thankfully, he was far too used to keeping control to let it show.

"I marked you as mine, is all," he replied coolly, placing one hand behind Viktor's neck and forcing him down so that their lips were almost touching.

Only. Just.

"Don't forget it," Yuuri murmured, gently running his tongue across Vitya's bottom lip before letting go. He pulled the umbrella from Viktor's frozen grip and stepped foward, leaving him behind.

To Mari and the others, it probably looked like he was being a sadistic tease, leaving Vitya standing in the rain with a flustered look on his face. In truth, he was just desperate to hide his own expression, which he knew looked more than a little aroused.

 _Shit,_ he thought, trying to calm down. _I want to fuck him senseless. Why is just the smell of his cologne turning me on?! It's only been like two days since the last time... what the actual hell?!_

He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, hard.

 _Just a month ago, if you told me I was going to be lusting after Vitya just because of his fucking smell..._

Yuuri tried to force himself to think about Ji Liuxian instead, but it was harder than he thought.

* * *

 **It began in near silence. One moment the bodyguard on the left was standing, the next he'd been shot through the head and was falling. Then all hell broke loose.**

 **Shots echoed throughout the narrow street as the Nikiforov men moved in from several different directions, seemingly appearing from thin air as they aimed at the second bodyguard and through the parlor windows indiscriminately, shattering the glass to pieces. Less than a minute later the gunfire was returned from the shop itself, the other side obviously ready to fight back to the bitter end.**

 **Someone screamed nearby, but it wasn't Vitya or Chris' concern. They hurried forward, staying to the shadows as much as possible as they made for a car parked on the street. The only just managed to duck behind it before they were spotted.**

 **"Damn, shitty luck," Chris swore from the ground, staring up as the sound of shots hit the other side of the car. The police wouldn't arrive for a while; they'd been paid off, and even if they hadn't been, the parlor was in a rather seedy area regardless. "I was hoping they would have taken out a few more before we got this close..."**

 **"From the sound of it, I think they were probably prepared for us," Viktor grunted, carefully angling the side mirror above him to get a look at the shop.**

 **"Why aren't these things ever easy?" muttered Chris, aiming a shot over the trunk before ducking down.**

 **"Because we're mafia, nothing is easy," Vitya replied, shooting through the shattered window.**

 **"Die, you fucking Russian assholes!" someone shouted from the shop. Chris peeked around the side of the car and swore.**

 **"Fuck, they got Ivanova," he said.**

 **"Shit, is he okay?!"**

 **"I dunno, he just went down. He was wearing a vest but if they got him somewhere else..."**

 **Viktor swallowed.**

 **"He'll be fine," he said aloud, mostly to reassure himself. Chris shot a few more times before ducking to reload his gun.**

 **"We can't just camp here all day," he said, placing a bullet between his lips as he worked.**

 **"I know..." Vitya said, thinking fast. "We have to take out the guys at the window before he group up with the others.**

 **"Eashier shaid dan dun," Chris managed to say. "Weresh da shniper?"**

 **"Dead, or spotted," Viktor replied, glancing up at the balcony. No one seemed to be moving there.**

 **"Fuck," Chris grunted, putting in the last bullet. "Then we kill em ourselves."**

 **Vitya's heart began to ache painfully.**

 **"Y...yeah..." he said, hands trembling slightly.**

 _ **Why is Chris able to do it, but not me?**_ **he thought as he tried to aim for one of the shooters and missed by a mile. One of the** ** _boyeviks_** **on the other side of the street managed to hit him instead, and Vitya flinched as he watched the man slump over. Chris fired several shots, two of which found their mark.**

 **Viktor didn't manage to hit anyone.**

 **"C'mon, it's clear!" Chris suddenly said, taking a quick look at the mirror. He wasted no time in pulling himself up, and Viktor had no choice but to follow.**

 **Vitya was never sure what made him turn. Perhaps it was a sound that alerted him, but it may have just been an instinct. His eyes were only slightly slower than his reflexes as he whipped his gun toward the threat; someone had tried to sneak up behind them, and they were now at Vitya's mercy.**

 **But then Viktor blinked, his mind catching up with his body, and he froze.**

 **It was only a teenager, a boy who looked like he might have been even younger than Chris was. Still, he was clearly holding a gun, though he went visibly pale at the speed with which Vitya reacted to his presence. His eyes grew wide.**

 **They were a pair of brown, angled eyes.**

 _ **Yuuri?!**_ **he thought, panicking.**

 **No, it couldn't be him. This boy had brown hair, and the shape of his face was very different. Vietnamese, perhaps, or Chinese. Not Japanese. And Yuuri was in Russia, with his mother and father... but the shock of seeing such familiar looking eyes in a moment like this caught him off guard, and he stood still a moment too long.**

 **The boy took his chance.**

 _ **"VITYA!"**_

 **He was knocked over painfully, the terrible crack of a gun echoing in his ears. His face hit the asphalt and a burning feeling on his cheek told him he'd scraped the skin open. Still, other than some soreness, it didn't hurt.**

 **But there was something heavy slumped over him, and when he tried to move, he realized it was Chris.**

 **"Chris?!** ** _CHRIS!"_** **he cried, pushing himself up. His cousin didn't move, but the boy did. He fell to his knees a second later, shot through the throat by one of the others. Viktor couldn't look away, the bile rising in his throat as the boy gurgled, clawing at his neck for a moment before he fell over, twitching.**

 **Chris suddenly groaned.**

 **"Fuck!" he growled, a pained sound escaping his lips. Vitya hurried to check him over.**

 **"Oh thank God you're alive," he said shakily. There was a red stain spreading from his shoulder, but the bullet didn't seem to have hit anything important.**

 **"Goddammit, Vitya!" Chris spat, clutching at his shoulder as Vitya dragged him out range. "Why'd you hesitate?!" he asked, somewhere between angry and concerned. Viktor tore his jacket and began to bandage up the wound. The rest of the** ** _bratva_** **would have to finish the job without them.**

 **"I... I didn't wanna kill a kid," Vitya said quietly, ashamed that his cousin had had to jump in to save him.**

 **Chris hissed at the pain, covering his face with his hand in exasperation.**

 **"Vitya, you have to kill," he said, wincing as Vitya wrapped the strips of fabric around his arm. "It's part of the job, and it doesn't matter who it is in front of you... if you don't kill them, they'll kill us first. You can't afford to hesitate, isn't that what dad is always saying? If I wasn't there... you would have died."**

 _ **I know...**_ **Viktor thought, biting the inside of his cheek.** ** _I know that. And I know that you could have been killed because of me..._**

 _ **Why do you think I'm so afraid?**_

* * *

The address led them down a small alley that had been hidden from the street. It seemed empty at first glance, save for some trashcans and a couple of doors set into the dirty, plain walls.

Mari gave a derisive snort.

"Why the police always say they have a hard time finding our establishments, I'll never know," she said, twirling her umbrella impatiently. "This place _screams_ mafia territory."

"I was always under the impression that the police was being paid off, ma'am," Roma said. He looked noticeably happier now that he'd been able to contact his wife; apparently Yuri Plisetsky was in first place after the competition's short program.

"Sometimes," Mari admitted. "Though in my experience they're usually just not willing to put in the effort."

"The Japanese police must be different from Russia's," Viktor grinned. "Our law enforcement is corrupt to the bone."

"Japan's is too... somewhat," she said. "But we don't have alliances with them the way I hear you do."

"Well China must be more like Russia then," Yuuri said as he walked over to a nondescript door to the right. "Because if the police haven't found this place, they're either idiots or purposefully turning a blind eye," he added, knocking firmly.

A slit opened at eye level.

"State your business," a voice said in thick English after studying the small group for a moment.

"We're here to speak with Ji Liuxian," Yuuri said simply. "By invitation."

"Name?"

"Katsuki-Nikiforov."

The slit closed, and a second later the door swung inward, a dark-haired man glaring at them from the shadows. Loud music was playing somewhere inside, the bass thrumming through the air.

"He's waiting for you in the back," the man said once all of them filed in, closing their umbrellas. "You're late."

"The flight was delayed," Yuuri said, handing his umbrella to Vitya.

"I'm not the one you need to be explaining to," the man said gruffly. He led them down a narrow hallway, toward the sound of the music.

"A night club," Mari noted about a second before they emerged into the main room. She was only half wrong. The room was dim, lit by ambient lighting. People were dancing in a thick crowd at the center of the room, the air thick with sweat and the smell of smoke, and something else, something acrid and unpleasant. A DJ was playing in the back, but Yuuri's eyes slid over toward the opposite end of the room, where several people were slumped over in a huddle, as though they were asleep.

"A heroin den," he corrected, raising an eyebrow as he noted the blissed out expressions and the telltale needles littered over the tables.

Petya whistled. "We should have brought Adrian," he said. "Kolya says he's been looking for a new supplier..."

"I doubt this shit is quality enough for Adrian," Roma muttered in Russian. "He only deals in the good stuff."

He was cut off by the guard pulling aside a curtain and revealing a door. "Here," he said brusquely, holding the door open. Yuuri nodded.

 _"Xièxiè,"_ he said coolly, one hand on the gun in his pocket, just in case.

The room was dark, and Yuuri had to blink for a moment while he waited for his eyes to adjust.

"Ah. So you're here," came a deep voice, and Yuuri saw Mari start out of the corner of his eye.

" _Ni... nihongo?"_ she said in Japanese, and the voice chuckled. A middle aged man stood up from a divan in the corner of the room, a cigar held between his teeth. He walked toward them, studying them in the dim lighting. He wasn't very tall, shorter than Yuuri, with short graying hair and a pair of old-fashioned spectacles on his nose.

"You must be Mari-chan," he said, holding his cigar thoughtfully. "I never got to meet you, but I can certainly see Hiroko-san in you."

"Y-you know my mother?!" she asked, taken aback.

"Not all that well," he said. He spoke Japanese quite fluently, though he spoke it with a slow, odd cadence that Yuuri didn't recognize. "But I met her a few times when I was in Hasetsu on business. Toshiya was very fond of her." He turned to Yuuri next. Ji Liuxian's black eyes seemed to be drinking him in, and Yuuri wasn't able to put a name to his expression. He felt Vitya's hand brush against his own nervously.

 _Heh, and I thought I was anxious_ , he thought, unable to suppress a small smile. He surreptitiously took one of Vitya's fingers, squeezing it gently.

Ji Liuxian put his cigar to his lips slowly, inhaling deeply.

"It's been a long time, Yuu-chan," he finally said, his eyes unreadable. "You really did grow up to be just like Yumi-san."

* * *

 **Notes:**

"Yuuri tried to force himself to think about Ji Liuxian instead, but it was _**harder**_ than he thought." ...I HAD TO GET THE SHITTY PUN/INNUENDO OUT OF MY SYSTEM, OKAY?!

This chapter is another build up, and it was REALLY hard for me to write for some reason. I hope it isn't as terrible as I get the feeling it is... Bleh.

I'm happy to say that I've decided I'm going to be making this fic available as a doujin (when it's done)! Right now I'm planning to include about fifty pages of extra content, including short side stories, illustrations (maybe), and character profiles. If there's something you'd like me to include, message me on Tumblr at limitofquestions or on Twitter at Okaeri_Kairi.

Anyway, thank you so much for being so patient while I found the willpower to get this chapter down... sorry it took a while. I hope you enjoy at least some of it, next one is more plot-centric...

 **Translation notes:**

1) _Boyeviks_ are the "warriors" of the bratva, the ones who usually go out to fight and do the dirty work.

2) "Thank you" in Chinese.

3) "Japanese?" as in the language.


	10. Agape

Viktor had never expected to hear the name of Yuuri's biological mother in Shanghai. Even in Japan, Mari had only mentioned her in passing, and only as Toshiya's wife. The only reason Viktor even knew the woman's name was because Mikhail mentioned her a few times to them while they were growing up, usually when showing them the wedding photo on the mantle.

"Her name was Katsuki Yumi," he'd said, pointing her out at Toshiya's side. She was dressed in the traditional garb of a Japanese bride, a large, white cowl over her head, her face painted the same shade and her lips cherry red. Vitya had always thought that she'd looked like a doll. Her eyes, the same shade as Yuuri's, were oddly blank.

But Yuuri had, for a time, been infatuated with the photograph. It was the only one of his mother by birth, and even though Katerina sometimes looked sad, she never begrudged him the long glances and curious expressions as he tried to commit Yumi to memory. As Yuuri grew older, and as Mikhail ran out of answers to give him, he eventually got over his need to know.

Now, however, Viktor recognized the burning curiosity in Yuuri's eyes, even while his expression remained carefully neutral.

 _"Tak, vse, krome Vitya - vyshli naruzhu,"_ he ordered in Russian.

 _"Da, ser."_

Antona, Petya, Alyosha, and Roma all bowed slightly and left the room.

"You knew Katsuki Yumi?" he asked Liuxian in English once they were gone. Viktor appreciated the switch; his Japanese wasn't advanced enough to keep up with the entire conversation.

Ji Liuxian merely stared at Yuuri for another long moment before he replied.

"Yes, and no," he said simply. His English had the same slow cadence that his Japanese did. "I knew Yumi-san, but I knew her as Okukawa Yumi, the eldest daughter of the Okukawa group." He turned to the man who had opened the door for them and barked an order in Chinese. The guard flipped a switch, turning on an ambient light overhead before he left the room and closed the door.

"Feel free to sit," Liuxian said, gesturing at a couple of sofas grouped around a table. He didn't bother to wait for the them to do so before he sat down himself, tapping his cigar against a ready ash tray on the glass table. As the three of them took their seats, he leaned back into the sofa, his eyes still firmly on Yuuri. His interest in the _pakhan_ was making Viktor feel unnerved.

"I didn't know that Father's wife was an Okukawa. Our relations with them are strained for some reason," Mari said when the older man didn't make any move to continue the conversation.

"That would be Yumi-san's doing," he said, leaning his elbow on the arm of the sofa. "But before that, why did you come all the way to Shanghai, Katsuki Yuuri, Katsuki Mari?"

"As we said over the phone, we're trying to find the people responsible for my father's... for Katsuki Toshiya's death," Yuuri replied.

"Why now?"

"Because," Yuuri said as he lit a cigarette and took a drag. "We have reason to believe that the same entities are responsible for the murder of Mikhail Nikiforov."

Liuxian raised an eyebrow.

"Mikhail died three years ago, if my sources are correct."

"You're right," Yuuri said. "My father was killed at the age of 45. Shot once, through the head, three years ago. We never found the assassin."

"Why investigate again now?"

"Because we found something during a raid last month, and because my mother is on her deathbed and she wants to know the truth before she dies."

"Katerina Ivanovna?" he asked, looking genuinely shocked. "The Silver Devil?"

"It's been a long time since I've heard her called that," Viktor chuckled. "Unfortunately, yes. Mother is fighting pancreatic cancer. The doctors say it's too late to hope for a recovery."

"Mother? Then you must be Viktor," Liuxian said, focusing on Vitya as though he were noticing him for the first time.

"Yes, Ji _Lóngtóu_."

"Heh, how lucky," Liuxian snorted, his tone sarcastic. "The heirs to every mafia family in our alliance, all here in one room... minus my own, of course."

Viktor thought he sounded unusually bitter, considering his son was supposed to be taking over the Ji family in Hong Kong.

"What did you find?" Liuxian asked Yuuri brusquely.

"A letter from my father, in code. When we deciphered it, we learned he was investigating Toshiya's death himself. And he mentioned something we think you can help us with."

"What would that be?"

Yuuri blew a cloud of smoke, tapping his jaw with his finger lazily. His eyes were dangerous, cold and sharp as steel.

"What do you know about 'Agape', Ji Liuxian?"

* * *

 **From the moment Yuuri first tasted blood, there was nothing he liked more than to watch Nikita at work.**

 **It wasn't just his bloodlust, or even the visceral shock and pleasure that came with it; in Yuuri's eyes, Nikita was an artist, and every time he brought the boy with him on his assignments for the next two years, Yuuri was spellbound.**

 **He was too young to participate, too small to protect himself, but he watched, and he learned. He learned that there were many ways to kill, that you could inflict very specific kinds of pain depending on what limbs you severed, and what organs you pierced. He learned that mercy was for honorable deaths, for enemies who had no choice but to fight you, and that there were ways to make spies talk that would make any normal person's blood curl.**

 **Shooting someone in a limb was an effective way to prevent them from getting away. Shooting someone in the stomach was to drag out a long, painful death, usually for torturing information out of someone. Cutting off fingers and toes worked well here too, though sometimes it was more effective to break the bones in as grotesque a way as possible so as to frighten the victim, or those who might be watching.**

 **Slicing off skin, flaying someone, was reserved for particularly nasty punishments. Biting off people's fingers was for intimidation, and you weren't supposed to swallow the blood if you could help it. Branding and burning were usually used on repeat offenders, against enemies who ignored warnings and continued to encroach on Nikiforov territory. There were also the slower, smaller forms of torture that were meant to be used for a long process: pulling out fingernails, water torture, drowning, shallow cuts, smashing kneecaps, using drugs, phobias, everything.**

 **At the age of thirteen, Yuuri once saw Nikita lock a man up in a room full of rats and leave him there overnight. They stayed in the building for several hours to practice Yuuri's combat skills, but it was hard to concentrate over the sound of the blood-curling screams as the victim was eaten alive.**

 **It was the most sublime sound he'd ever heard, echoing in his ears long after they went home.**

 **That night, Yuuri locked himself in his bathroom and allowed himself to explore his own body. It was the first time he'd ever experienced something sexual for his own gratification, and he was filled with self-loathing and twisted lust as he worked at himself with cold, trembling fingers, unable to hold back a cry as he came in his hands.**

 **He leaned against the bathroom door for nearly an hour afterward, staring up at the ceiling with his stomach aching.**

 _ **I'm disgusting... This isn't normal, it's sick...**_

 **When he finally forced himself to get up and go to bed, he dreamed he was the one trapped in the room, with rats crawling over him, eating his flesh away. He screamed.**

 _ **Vitya! Vitya!**_

 **A pair of blue eyes were shining in the darkness, staring down at him with barely concealed disgust.**

 _"_ _ **You deserve this,"**_ **they said. "** ** _You're so fucked up, you actually got off on someone going through this."_**

 ** _I didn't mean to! I couldn't help it, my body just-!_**

 ** _"Liar. This isn't the first time you've gotten hard from watching Nikita hurt people. You like it. You_** **enjoy** ** _it. Just because you touched yourself this time doesn't make it any less horrible that you've wanted to all along."_**

 ** _I... I know, I'm disgusting!_**

 **"** ** _You deserve to die."_**

 ** _I know... I know that!_**

 **The eyes blinked, and the voice changed.**

 **"** ** _But it felt good, didn't it?"_**

 **Yuuri shut his eyes, trying to forget.**

 _ **No, no!**_

 **The voice laughed. "** ** _It felt good_** **because** ** _it was horrible. Viktor is right, Yuratchka. You do deserve this, but that doesn't mean you have to hide your desires. Look, even now, even while you're screaming, you're still excited."_**

 ** _N-No! That's not true!_**

 ** _"Poor, dirty, pathetic Yuratchka... It's alright,"_** **Nikita crooned. "** ** _We're going to hell anyway. May as well enjoy it."_**

 **When Yuuri woke up, teary eyed and covered in sweat, there was something wet and sticky in his boxers.**

* * *

Yuuri relished the look on Liuxian's face. It wasn't quite surprise, but he could tell that the former boss wasn't expecting such a straightforward question.

"Where did you hear that name?" he asked, his calm voice strained.

"In the letter, as I just said," Yuuri said, idly turning the wedding band on his finger. "My father was writing to an old friend for information on something called 'Agape,' and he seems to have thought that there was a connection with Toshiya. Unfortunately, it seems he was being very cautious about putting too much in writing. We tried to follow up on it ourselves, but our intel so far has come up with nothing."

"Why not ask the person the letter was addressed to?"

"They're dead," Yuuri said simply. "Killed shortly after my father. The letter was in the hands of one of his close associates, though he didn't have any useful information."

 _I should know, I personally tortured him for it._

Liuxian sighed. Somehow, he seemed to grow older and wearier as he did, sinking back into the sofa.

"I'm tired of this," he said, pulling his glasses off and wiping the lenses on his shirt. He placed them back on his nose, and the look he gave Yuuri was very different from all the stares he'd received so far. It was the sort of look Vitya sometimes had, when they were alone.

 _Tenderness...?_ he thought, perplexed.

"So much like Yumi-san," Luixian muttered. "And so different, as well... I suppose there's no point in playing these diplomatic games anymore."

"Then you'll tell us what you know?" Mari asked, leaning forward in anticipation.

The old man nodded. "I will, but it isn't much, I'm afraid."

"Anything will help at this point," Yuuri said.

"Right." He took a deep breath, his eyes still on Yuuri. "I don't suppose you remember me, Yuu-chan?"

"Very faintly. I remember a foreigner coming to our house... there was a boy about my age."

"Qigang. My eldest."

"Eldest? Wasn't there a one-child policy in China?" Mari asked, confused.

"Yes, but there were many exceptions and loopholes. The Ji Family was wealthy enough to be one of them, though it wouldn't have mattered. Qigang died."

An odd note of sympathy settled in Yuuri's throat. He hardly remembered the details, but he was sure he and the boy had played together. It was somehow sad to think that a child he'd actually been friendly with was dead.

"Oh," he said. "My condolences."

"Hearing that, from you of all people, is... difficult," Liuxian said, looking away pointedly. "You have no fault in what happened, but Qigang saved your life."

"He... what?"

"You really don't remember, do you?"

Yuuri could feel the resentment in the air, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall anything beyond the inferno on the night his father died.

"I only remember the fire... the next thing I knew, I was in a hospital in Russia."

"I was the one who sent you there," Liuxian said flatly. "I was also the one who paid for your treatment for the two months before that."

"What?!" Yuuri had never heard this before, and he was sure that Vitya had never been told either. A quick glance in his direction confirmed it; his eyes looked rather lost. Either Katerina had forgotten, or never known, or had decided not to tell them for some reason or another.

"I smuggled you out of Japan, as a favor to Yumi-san and Toshiya. You and Qigang were the same age, and by luck, you looked alike. We used his identity to get you into China and hide the fact that you were alive."

"The child..." Mari said suddenly. "The body they found in the fire, the one we thought was my brother...! That was your...?!"

A pained expression came over Liuxian's eyes.

"I was too late by the time I found him," he said quietly. "I meant to take his body with me, at least, but then I found Yuu-chan. He was dying... He had terrible burns, he'd inhaled too much smoke... He would have died if I hadn't gotten him out. But obviously the Katsukis were being targeted, and I didn't want to risk taking him to a hospital as Toshiya's son, so I brought him in as my own... I had to leave Qigang behind."

"But... why would you do something like that?" Mari asked, clearly upset. "I mean, I'm grateful you saved Yuuri, but your son...!"

He closed his eyes, grimacing for a moment before answering.

"As much as it pained me to abandon my son's body... I did it because Yuu-chan is Yumi's child."

* * *

 **Viktor stood outside his uncle's study, his nerves running high. He'd been trying to work up the courage to do this for weeks, and it was only the prospect of running out of time that brought him downstairs despite all his misgivings.**

 _ **Okay, you can do this... You're Viktor Nikiforov. Everyone looks up to you, everyone thinks you're amazing. You do your own thing and everyone else follows.**_

 **He swallowed, taking a deep breath.** ** _Even if you don't do this, they'll find out you're a coward anyway. Better to be alive and afraid than dead._**

 **Steeling himself, he turned the knob; unlike Mikhail, Valya didn't mind being interrupted by his family while he was at work. His office was located on the first floor, next to Aunt Lena's flower shop, and it was very different from the office Viktor recalled from his youth in St. Petersburg. It was small and crowded and had no windows. There were a few shelves for some books and keepsakes, and a simple wooden desk. Other than the photographs hanging on the white walls, it was a simple, utilitarian space, well suited to Valentino's personality.**

 **He looked up from a letter when his nephew opened the door.**

 **"Vitya? What is it?" he asked, looking somewhat concerned. "Did something happen to Chris?"**

 **"No, Chris is fine," Vitya said, shaking his head. His cousin was still resting after the surgery to remove the bullet in his shoulder, but he was looking more energized every day. He would be back to his flamboyant self soon enough. "I... I have something... important to talk about, Uncle..."**

 **Valentino frowned, but motioned for him to close the door and come forward. Viktor did as he was asked, brushing the hair from his eyes nervously.**

 **"What's this about?"**

 **Vitya bit the inside of his cheek, then decided to throw himself to the wolves.**

 **"I... I want to leave the** ** _bratva."_**

 **His uncle stared disbelievingly at him.**

 **"What?"**

 **"I want to leave. I'm not cut out for this life," he said, more firmly now that he'd made up his mind.**

 **"What are you** ** _talking_** **about, Vitya?! You were born for this, raised for it! You're Mikhail's** ** _heir!_** **The next** ** _pakhan!_** **Even if you weren't,** ** _no one_** **just leaves the** ** _bratva!_** **Are you out of your mind?!"**

 **"No, I'm not. I love this family, Uncle. I love you, and Aunt Lena, and Chris, and I love all my brothers in the ranks. But I can't do what they need me to do to keep them alive. I can't kill, I just... can't. Chris could have died, and it was all because I couldn't kill that kid. Next time, he might not be so lucky."**

 **"Don't be a fool, boy," Valya growled. "No one is born a killer. We all go through doubt and fear and guilt; don't make yourself out to be special. You aren't. I went through this. My men went through this, even Chris went through this. You are a fantastic** ** _vor,_** **Vitya, even if you haven't dirtied your hands yet. You've known the stakes all your life, this is what we are. Don't throw your future away over something stupid."**

 **"I'm not throwing it away. Continuing in the family will only get me or my brothers killed. I don't want to be responsible for anyone else's death, ever."**

 **Valya slammed his hands on the desk and stood up. "I've had it up to** ** _here_** **with your selfishness, Viktor Mikhailovich! This is not about you! Mikhail sent you to me so I could raise you into his successor, not so you could decide to walk away when you're done playing!** ** _You are not leaving!"_**

 **"I'll leave if it damn well pleases me!" Viktor shouted back, anger clouding his judgement. "I didn't ask for this life, it isn't my fault I was born into it! I'm not the same as someone who** ** _chose_** **to become a** ** _shetsyorka!_** **I don't care if I have the talent, and I don't care if Father is disappointed in me; I'll choose my own life, and I want nothing to do with thieves and murderers!"**

 **He wasn't prepared for the heavy slap across his face. His uncle struck him hard with his open palm, his eyes blazing with fury. Viktor's stared wide-eyed with shock as he pressed a hand to his stinging cheek. It hurt.**

 **"Get out."**

 **"Wh-what?"**

 **"Get. Out. You want out of the family? Fine. You are no longer a Nikiforov. Get out of my house before I shoot you, Viktor Mikhailovich."**

 **Vitya didn't need to be told twice. He didn't think about the fact that he was an eighteen year-old senior with two months left until he graduated, or about the fact that he had no income or place to stay. He didn't doubt for a moment that his uncle wouldn't keep his word, so he hurried to pack a bag for himself and Makkachin as quickly as he could. Once he had his dog on a leash and pulled on a jacket, he stepped out into the night, no longer sure what he was doing, or if he'd done the right thing.**

 **All he knew was that he no longer had a place to call home.**

* * *

"What does my mother have to do with it?" Yuuri asked sharply.

"Everything. Agape as well," Liuxian said, sighing. "But I guess it won't make sense unless I start at the beginning."

He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and passed it across the table to Yuuri. Vitya craned his neck to get a closer look; it was a photograph of a young woman in a _kimono,_ and Viktor suddenly understood why Liuxian insisted that Yuuri looked like her. It was obvious, even if they hadn't shared the same eyes and hair. From the shape of his nose to the rounded, feminine face, Yuuri could have passed for this woman's twin brother.

And it was more than the physical attributes. While the photo of her in her wedding attire had made her look like a passive doll, this photo was expressive and bright. Yumi was smiling, the same, innocent, trusting smile Viktor had known growing up, the same smile he now very rarely managed to coax out of his husband. But there was also grace and nobility about her; a strength that Yuuri had lacked as a child, but that he now carried himself with at all times.

"She was sixteen in that photo," Liuxian said as Yuuri handed the picture to Mari. "Okukawa Yumi, the eldest daughter of the Okukawa group... and my fiance."

"Yours?!" Mari stared incredulously at him. "But, my father-"

"She married Toshiya, yes. But we were engaged before that. Our families were allied, in the past, and Yumi-san and I were promised to each other since we were children. We often spent the summers at each others' homes, so I knew her very well.

"She was, as you can see, a beauty, but she was a fiery one. She was never one to sit still and wait for things to happen, and she was proud of her heritage. Perhaps a tad too proud," Liuxian chuckled fondly. "She once challenged me to a fight with bamboo swords for saying that the Okukawas would be nothing without the Ji family. Beat me within an inch of my life. As you can imagine, I was madly in love with her."

Viktor would have supplied a witty quip, but he realized he would be a hypocrite if he did. _As they say in America, I would be a masochistic pot calling a kettle black._

"So how did she end up married with Toshiya?" Yuuri asked, clearly interested in his mother's past.

"The Okukawas had a long-standing feud with another family based in Kyushu. The Nishigoris. Back in those says, the Nishigori group was encroaching on Okukawa territory. It was a nasty business, just short of a real war. Unfortunately, my father had no wish to get involved with internal Japanese power struggles. When the Okukawa group reached out to us for help, he refused, and the alliance was broken, along with my engagement to Yumi-san.

"I heard she was engaged to Toshiya soon after; his father had provided the aid the Okukawas needed to beat back their rivals and struck up a new alliance between them. She was eighteen when they married. A friend of mine sent me a photo, and what I saw broke my heart. Yumi-san was unhappy; I could tell that she didn't care a whit for her husband, and I don't think Toshiya cared much for her either. You're the living proof, Mari-chan," he said, gesturing at her.

"I saw it," she admitted. "My father was clearly in love with my mother, and he would always make an excuse to come visit us. I heard that his wife was livid when she found out; one of my men who was around back then says she couldn't believe Toshiya would pick a chubby, simple girl who worked at an _onsen_ over a traditional Japanese beauty. I never met her but that was enough for her to rub me the wrong way," she snorted.

"That sounds like her, yes," Liuxian laughed. "She was, as I said, very proud. A few years after she'd been married, the Okukawas tried to take her back."

"Take her... back?" Viktor asked, perplexed.

"They wanted to invalidate the marriage to the Katsuki clan. I happened to be in Hasetsu when this happened. The Okukawa group wasn't very clear about why they wanted to suddenly break the alliance, but I found out later that Toshiya had refused to back a drug deal the Okukawa family was working on with an international group. That's when I first heard about Agape."

"It's a group?" Mari asked, bemused.

"It was," Liuxian said. "They've long since disappeared off the radar, though I have no idea why. Back then, they were apparently trading in illegal substances. High quality drugs, liquid mercury, weapons, everything. There was even a rumor about a sex-slave trade."

"None of that sounds out of the ordinary with what we do," Yuuri pointed out.

"Right. I can't say what made Toshiya refuse to deal with them. Whatever it was, it upset the Okukawas, and they demanded Yumi-san come back.

"I was visiting with the Katsukis, trying to negotiate a new alliance. I won't lie; I was hoping to see Yumi-san again, and the alliance was just an excuse to be connected to her in some way. But proud as she was, she wouldn't have a thing to do with me. And she wouldn't have a thing to do with the Okukawas either. She was furious when they demanded she return.

 _"'I'm not an object you can throw back and forth when you find a new use for me!'_ she said, right in her father's face. He tried to reason with her, using the fact that Toshiya had a mistress against her, but she actually had the nerve to spit at him. She told him she didn't give a shit if Toshiya had a hundred whores, that she'd spent the last few years cementing her place as the Katsuki matriarch and that she wasn't about to give up her hard work and pride on her father's whim.

"He didn't get to say anything in return. She pulled a knife from her sleeve and without so much as a warning she cut off all her hair and threw it at him.

 _"'If you want Okukawa Yumi back, that's the only part that's left of her. Everything else is mine, and I no longer have anything to tie me to you. I am a Katsuki, and you are an intruder. Get out of my house.'"_

As Liuxian finished his story, Viktor found himself aghast.

 _THAT was Yuuri's mother?! She wasn't like him at ALL! The Yuuri I knew in the past was a sweet, kind, cute little boy... but Katsuki Yumi sounds far more like the Yuuri today than the little brother who arrived in Russia..._

Yuuri laughed.

"I like her," he said, grinning. "I'm somewhat disappointed I never got to meet her; I took after my father, but perhaps that was only because she was never around to influence me," he noted, echoing Viktor's thoughts.

"She was certainly special," Mari muttered. Liuxian held out his hand for the photograph and she returned it.

"The Katsukis and Okukawas cut their ties after that. And about a year later, you were born, Yuu-chan. I heard that Yumi-san and Toshiya got along better towards the end; whatever it was, you were the result, and Yumi-san unfortunately passed away birthing you. She named you though."

"Did she?"

"'Yuuri' for courage. It was something she always had in spades; I'm sure she wanted you to have at least that from her."

Yuuri's expression was purposefully blank, but Viktor could see that there was something glinting in the depth of his eyes. _Sadness... I think..._

"You said Yumi had everything to do with Agape," Mari said quietly. "But I don't see the connection, Liuxian."

"Well... it seems that one of her dying wishes was for Toshiya to refuse all dealings with the Okukawas and with Agape. At the time, it sounded like it was a personal grudge, but over the years, Toshiya began to wonder if there was something she knew that he didn't. Yumi-san ran an incredibly detailed spy network, and the Katsuki clan suffered from her loss. Unfortunately, she was very thorough; she destroyed nearly all the information that passed through her hands, which made it hard for Toshiya to investigate.

"Why do you know this?" Yuuri asked cautiously.

"Because Toshiya told me himself. He invited me to Japan, saying that he wanted my help in finding out what Yumi-san might have known. I knew her better than anyone, so he thought I might understand her codes and methods. He was very interested in Agape when I arrived with Qigang, but unfortunately we never managed to go through Yumi-san's records."

"The fire," Yuuri supplied, his tone flat. Liuxian nodded sadly.

"The fire."

* * *

 **When Yuuri was fourteen, he began to take a more active role as Nikita's student. He was taught how to shoot, how to negotiate and intimidate, and how to tell the difference between quality cocaine and the kind with filler. He was shown how to tell when a drug deal was going to go badly, how to find runaway prostitutes and work with the police, and how to command his underlings. He learned how to command an operation, how to order an assassination, how to remove evidence and leave no trace. He was also taught how to use Nikita's tools of the trade first hand.**

 **"You seem different, Yuuri," Nikita noted as Yuuri cleaned the blood off his arms using the towels in the trunk one evening. He gave the boy an appraising look, nodding to himself. "Yes, something is different," he repeated, taking Yuuri's chin and turning it thoughtfully.**

 **"I haven't grown much taller," Yuuri said quietly. His voice had begun to change, but he remained shorter than most of his classmates.**

 **"It's not that..." Nikita put a hand to his lips, obviously lost in thought. His blue eyes wandered up and down Yuuri's body, and he suddenly felt very self conscious. Lately, Nikita had been treating him differently, more seriously and less like a child. Yuuri both welcomed and feared the change; while he craved Nikita's approval and attention, he was also frightened of what it meant for Nikita to give that approval.**

 _ **The more he praises me, the more disgusting I feel... but I can't stop looking for it...**_

 **He needed Nikita to tell him he was becoming useful. He needed to hear that there was ultimately a reason to his horrible desires, that while he was a dirty, twisted dog, he still had a place at Viktor's side.**

 **He needed to be told he was beautiful, and only Nikita could tell him that, because only Nikita was tainted and depraved enough to see the beauty and pleasure in filth and pain.**

 _ **Just like me.**_

 **During the drive home, Nikita kept muttering something under his breath that Yuuri wasn't quite sure he was hearing correctly.**

 **It sounded an awful lot like the phrase "You aren't like Agape," repeated over and over again.**

* * *

 **Notes:**

I am dying, holy shit. I'm really exhausted, so I'll be taking a week off between this update and the next. That means I probably won't start writing the next chapter until next week, so I hope this is enough to tide you over.

There is also a set of drabbles that I wrote to accompany the main story. They're all canon, though out of order on purpose. Some of them may show up in the future, though fleshed out, and you can find the set in my works under "Never Let Me Go"

As always, thank you so much for reading and enjoying this story! I hope to hear from you soon~

 **Translation Notes:**

1) _"Tak, vse, krome Vitya - vyshli naruzhu._ " = "Everyone except Vitya, wait outside."

2) _"Da, ser." =_ "Yes, sir."

3) _Lóngtóu -_ The title for a Chinese mafia boss. Liuxian is retired, but Viktor is trying not to step on any toes since he's technically a subordinate.


	11. Lost

**"Well, I guess we're homeless now, Makkachin."**

 **The large poodle wagged its tail, its paws resting on Viktor's lap. Vitya tried to smile as he scratched Makkachin behind the ear, but it was hard to be cheerful when he was sitting on a bench in Central Park in the middle of the night. He'd never particularly felt unsafe in the city after dark, especially not when he was carrying his gun, as was his custom, but now everything seemed far more menacing.**

 **It wasn't the shady characters that made their rounds after dark that made him uneasy. Viktor knew for a fact that at least a few of the prostitutes and drug dealers were affiliated with the Nikiforov** ** _bratva_** **, and he was confident that he could easily fight someone off if anyone tried to mug him. He was more worried about what was going to happen in the morning, and the day after that. And the day after that.**

 **He'd never had to worry about the future before, not like this. He'd worried about dying, or about seeing his friends and family die in front of him, but Viktor had never really stopped to appreciate what a blessing it was to have a roof over one's head and food at the ready. He had very little money, and while he could ask a friend to take him in for a few days, he knew he couldn't expect to rely on them forever. Still, he had no idea how to go about getting a job, much less his own apartment, and suddenly his completely disastrous cooking skill seemed like a terrible shortcoming.**

 _ **And I have to feed Makkachin too,**_ **he sighed, running his hand through the dog's soft fur.** ** _I wish I'd at least saved up some money..._**

 **A young woman in heels came up to his bench. Her skin was dark, her hair only slightly more so. She was very lightly clad, though Viktor would have recognized her for a prostitute regardless of what she'd been wearing. He'd been involved in the underworld too long not to recognize the sensuous charm all prostitutes turned on to make their living.**

 **"Hello, handsome," she said as she paused in front of him, eyeing him suggestively. Viktor smiled up at her politely.**

 **"Good evening," he said. "I'm afraid I'm not looking for any services tonight."**

 **She blinked, and her demeanor seemed to relax somewhat.**

 **"I see. You look rather young to be out here on your own anyway, sweetheart," she noted, tapping at her lower lip thoughtfully. She had a rich accent, though her English was very good. "Were you kicked out?"**

 **Vitya raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know?"**

 **She smiled at him, not unkindly.**

 **"Honey, you're hardly the first teenager to find themselves alone out in Central Park at an ungodly hour. Did you come out to your parents or something?"**

 **"Come out?"**

 **"Tell them you were gay," she said pointedly. "That's usually the reason kids like you end up homeless."**

 **Viktor chuckled. "No, that's not what happened. My parents don't know I'm not straight, but I live with my aunt and uncle, and they don't care. Both my cousin and I swing both ways."**

 **"That's unusually progressive," she noted. "Mind if I take a seat?"**

 **He shook his head, moving over on the bench to make space for her. "Please, go ahead."**

 **She sat next to him and Makkachin immediately nosed into her hand.**

 **"Friendly," she laughed, petting his head. "What's your name, little one?" she crooned, her earrings clinking loudly.**

 **"His name is Makkachin. He likes most everyone," Viktor admitted. "He's a rather terrible guard dog."**

 **"Well, I like him too," she said. "And since you've told me your name, I'll tell you mine, Makkachin. I'm Nicole. Does your master have a name he'd like to share as well?"**

 **Viktor grinned despite himself. She didn't seem to be a bad sort, and it wasn't like him to refuse a friendly chat.**

 **"Viktor," he said. "With a 'k.'"**

 **"Is that Polish or something?" she asked.**

 **"Russian."**

 **"It sounds nice when you say it," she said, grinning. "I've never heard a Russian accent in person before."**

 **"I have an accent?" he asked, surprised.**

 **"A light one," she nodded. "I always assumed Russian was an angry language, but it doesn't sound like that at all."**

 **"It can be angry, sometimes," he winced, thinking of his Uncle. "But if it comes to pleasant sounding accents, yours is much better. Spanish?"**

 **Her brown eyes shone in the light of the park lamp. "You can tell?"**

 **"I've lived in New York since I was twelve," he smiled. "I've had many Hispanic friends."**

 **"I'm Puerto Rican," she said, touching one of her earrings thoughtfully. "Though I grew up here." She shot him a meaningful glance. "Which reminds me, if you weren't kicked out for being gay, Viktor, why is it that you're sitting on a bench outside at 1 in the morning?"**

 **He sighed.**

 **"I made a mistake," he admitted.**

 **"Haven't we all?" she asked, immaculate eyebrow raised.**

 **"This was... a bit different. I told my Uncle I didn't want to go into the family... business."**

 **Nicole hummed to herself for a moment. "It's interesting, that your Uncle is fine with you being gay, but not with you being against inheriting the family business."**

 **"He's a very fair-minded man," Vitya shrugged. "Unfortunately, that doesn't really extend to this. I've been training to take over my whole life, but... I can't do it."**

 **"I see..." They fell into silence, Nicole still ruffling Makkachin's fur.**

 **The sound of drunken laughter echoed in the distance, but the sounds of the city were somewhat muffled. It was calming, being surrounded by the relative darkness and solitude of nature. And it was a lot less unnerving when Vitya had someone to share it with.**

 **"I don't mean to pry," Nicole finally said, her voice even and serious. "And I won't pretend to understand your circumstances, but...do you think you did the right thing?"**

 **"Huh?"**

 **"When you decided you didn't want to take over your uncle's business," she explained. "Do you regret your choice?"**

 **He groaned, leaning back into the bench, staring up at the dark night sky.**

 **"I don't know," he said truthfully. "I didn't want to do what they were asking of me. I don't want to hurt people. But it's my family... they were counting on me..."**

 **She made the humming noise again.**

 **"Hey, do you know why most prostitutes go into the business?" she asked suddenly. Viktor was startled by the sudden change in topic.**

 **"Uh, money, right?"**

 **"Pretty much," Nicole said, crossing her legs and pulling out a box of cigarettes. "Do you want one?" she asked as she pulled out a lighter. He shook his head and she shrugged, lighting one for herself. She inhaled deeply, exhaling a breath of smoke before continuing. "Most of us need money, for one reason or another. Whether you're a man or a woman, few of us choose this life because we like it."**

 **"I can imagine..." he said guiltily. He'd worked for a while with the prostitution brigade, and he'd seen plenty of blackmail and coercion, even if he hadn't actively done it himself.**

 **"Viktor, how old do you think I am?" she asked.**

 **He eyed her for a moment and decided to be polite. "Twenty-five?"**

 **She chuckled. "I guess smoking does make you look older than you really are," she said cheerfully as she took another drag. "I'm twenty-one."**

 **"Oh."**

 **"It's alright," she said. "I don't mind. It's not like I** ** _feel_** **twenty-one. I've been a working girl since I was fourteen. I got knocked up by my step-father, and my mother didn't believe me when I told her the truth. So I ran away. I needed money to support myself and my kid, and before I knew it, it's seven years later and I'm still here, still in need of money to support my daughter."**

 **Viktor wasn't sure what to say. It was a personal story, one he couldn't empathize with at all, no matter how sad it was. Yet Nicole told it flatly, reciting it as if it were a merely an everyday occurrence.**

 _ **Probably because to her, and to those like her, it is,**_ **he realized.**

 **"That's... terrible," he muttered.**

 **"I've accepted it," she shrugged. "I put myself through school, you know."**

 **"That's impressive, that you didn't quit."**

 **"I thought it might help me get out of prostitution, but it hasn't helped yet," she grimaced. "Still, it's useful in other ways. But that's not the point, honey," she said, resting her elbow on the bench. "The point is, I put up with a job that I hate because my family, my daughter, depends on me to. That's what feels right to me. I would probably feel different if I didn't have her, but since I do, it doesn't matter. My family is more important to me."**

 **She tossed her cigarette to the ground, grinding it with her heel.**

 **"So, Viktor, do you think you've made the right choice? Are your feelings in this case more important than what your family wants?"**

 **Vitya closed his eyes, thinking hard. They weren't inseparable, if he was honest. Remaining in the** ** _bratva_** **without the will to kill was dangerous. He wasn't doing the family any favors if he didn't have the spine to pull the trigger when he needed to. And he** ** _knew_** **he didn't... even when Chris had been in danger, he hadn't been able to do a thing. So if that was the case...**

 **"Yes," he said aloud. "I think I did the right thing."**

 **Nicole gave him a small smile.**

 **"If that's all settled, do you and Makkachin have somewhere to stay, Viktor?"**

* * *

No one spoke for a few minutes after Liuxian finished telling his story. It was hard to find something to say, after a story like that one. Vitya could tell that both Yuuri and Mari were deeply affected, and Liuxian seemed to have aged several years since they'd arrived. It was Mari who finally spoke up in the end.

"I suppose Katsuki Yumi's records were destroyed?" she said evenly.

"Almost certainly," Liuxian sighed. "And she was so careful that I doubt she had duplicates."

"So... a dead end," Yuuri said flatly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help," Liuxian said, pressing his hands together. "I did try to investigate Agape after I brought you to China, but they disappeared. I don't know if they disbanded, or if something else happened, but we couldn't track them down at all. It was almost as if they'd never existed in the first place."

"Well, if Father was looking for them just three years ago, it probably means he found something that made him think they were back," Viktor said slowly.

"Or that they never actually disappeared in the first place," Yuuri added. His tone was cold and Viktor could sense the anger in it. "Well, sister? What do we do now?"

Mari bit the side of her nail thoughtfully.

"I suppose we try to speak with someone from the Okukawas. They've made it more than clear that they hate me since I took over, but you're a different story, Yuuri. Maybe, as Yumi's son, they'll listen to you."

"If they're anything like they used to be, I doubt it," Liuxian said, shaking his head. "Is Okukawa Minako still the leader?"

"I don't really know," said Mari. "Like I said, our relations are basically nonexistent. And the Okukawas are based in Fukuoka, not Saga. Our territories haven't overlapped for years. All I know is that they want nothing to do with the Katsukis."

"It's the only lead we have," Yuuri shrugged. "If the Okukawas had ties to Agape, they might know more about what happened to them. There must be some way to get the leader to talk with us."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up, if the leader is still Minako-san," Liuxian warned. "She is Yumi-san's younger sister, and your aunt, Yuu-chan. But she won't care about that; she's every bit as proud and fierce as your mother was."

"If it means we can get information, we'll do whatever it takes to speak with her," Yuuri said. "Thank you for everything, Liuxian. We appreciate your help." He stood up, Liuxian staring up at him with that same tender expression he'd had while speaking about Okukawa Yumi.

"Just like her," he said, removing his spectacles and cleaning them on his shirt. "She'd be proud of you, Yuu-chan."

Viktor saw Yuuri's hand twitch slightly, and he stood up as well, slipping his hand into Yuuri's as he did. Yuuri gave a small start but made no other movement to show that he'd felt it.

"Can we count on you for support, Liuxian?" Mari asked as she also rose from her seat. Liuxian gave her a grim smile.

"I am an old man, Mari-chan. Perhaps not that old in years, but old enough in my heart. I've lost far too much, seen too much. All I want is to retire in peace and let Guang Hong take care of things for the Ji family from now on. But I'll let him know that he's to assist you if you need anything."

"You say that, Ji _Lóngtóu_ , but you don't seem very retired," Viktor said, grinning slightly. "You're holding a meeting in a heroin den, after all."

Liuxian chuckled.

"Well, Guang Hong is still young. He doesn't have the experience necessary to handle things outside of Hong Kong, so I'm looking after our holdings in Shanghai until he's a little older."

"I thought retirement usually involved beaches and sleeping in, not working for less pay," Yuuri said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Liuxian shrugged. "You'll understand when you're married and have children of your own."

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Yuuri burst into laughter.

"Old man, you might need a stronger prescription for your glasses," he snickered, genuinely amused. He held up his right hand, still entangled with Viktor's, to show the wedding band on his ring finger. "I'm already married, but I'm afraid I won't be having any kids."

Liuxian blinked, confused, then gave a snort of his own laughter.

"Well, I admit I wasn't expecting this," he said. "I can't decide if Toshiya and Mikhail are rolling in their graves or pleased that their sons ended up married to each other."

"Does it matter? They're both dead," Yuuri said flatly.

"And Mother is pleased," Viktor said, wrapping his arms possessively around Yuuri's shoulders. "That's enough for me."

"Yes, Katya _would_ approve," Liuxian nodded. "And who knows what Yumi-san would have thought? Even I wasn't sure what was going through her head, half the time."

"I dunno about Okukawa Yumi, but at least _my_ mother and I are perfectly fine with it," Mari sniffed proudly. Liuxian smiled at her as the three of them made their way to the door.

"Give Hiroko-san my regards," he said as they stepped out and closed the door behind them.

* * *

 **"Yuratchka! Are you ready to go?"**

 **"Yes, Mama, coming!" Yuuri called as he hurriedly threw his phone and sweater into his bag. He pulled his shoes on hastily and rushed out his bedroom door. Katerina was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, her long silver hair tied into a plait, a white brimmed hat over her eyes. A large carpet bag was sitting at her feet, and at the sight of him she smiled warmly and bent to pick it up.**

 **"You brought your contacts and a mirror?" she asked as she pulled him in close and ruffled his hair.**

 **"Mm," he said, feeling slightly awkward at his mother's over-affectionate gestures. Katerina had always been a rather overbearing parent, though perhaps not the most attentive; she sometimes noted that he seemed somewhat distant, but she never thought to pry further out of respect for his privacy. Regardless, she'd never been one for personal space, and she continued to coddle him the same way she had when he was a child, despite the fact that he was fourteen now.**

 **"Let's go, then," she said cheerfully, humming to herself as she opened the front door for him. "Misha! We're leaving!" she called loudly. "We'll be back for dinner!"**

 **"Alright," came the muffled reply from the study. "Take care, Katya, Yuratchka."**

 **"Yes, Father," Yuuri called as Katerina closed the door and locked it.**

 **"Well, that's that," she said, pulling the carpet bag over her shoulder. "Now, where did I park the car..."**

 **"In the garage, as usual, Mama."**

 **"Oh right, of course," she laughed, clapping her hands as if it were amusing that she always forgot she parked the car in the same place. Her blue eyes were glinting in the summer sun as they put the bags in the trunk, and she kept bursting out into snippets of song as they finally pulled out of the driveway and set out. Yuuri couldn't help feeling somewhat cheerful when he was around her; she was like the sun, contagious and warm, even now that he was no longer a child.**

 _ **Maybe it's because she's just like Vitya,**_ **he thought as he stared out the window, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he listened to her sing a Russian children's song.**

 **"Nikita has been teaching you how to handle a gun, hasn't he?" Katerina asked suddenly. Yuuri was startled out of his thoughts, and the sound of Nikita's name sent a pang of guilt through his stomach.**

 **"What?"**

 **"Nikita," she repeated, smiling at him. "You've been learning how to shoot under him?"**

 **"Oh, yes," he said, feeling self-conscious. His mother's eyes were also just like Nikita's, after all.**

 **"Handguns, yes? Glocks?"**

 **"Uh huh."**

 **"Good, it will help you today," she said, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "I'm so glad I finally get to teach you this. I wanted to teach Vitya too, of course, but... well, I'm sure Uncle Valya taught him fine," she said softly. Yuuri's heart tightened; several weeks ago, they'd received an angry phone call from Mikhail's brother in New York. He told them that Viktor had decided to leave the** ** _bratva_** **and been kicked out of his house.**

 **"What do you mean you kicked him out?!" Katerina had shouted, ripping the receiver from Mikhail's hands. "Valentino, if my son gets so much as a** ** _scratch,_** **I'll make sure you personally pay for it!" she'd cried.**

 **Mikhail had tried to soothe her, but she wasn't having any of it; she ordered Valya to find Viktor and put him on the first plane back to Russia immediately, but though he'd promised to do so, Yuuri's brother hadn't been found. His cell phone had been disconnected and he'd completely vanished from the Nikiforov's network. For all they knew, he'd left the city. Or worse.**

 **Yuuri had been heartbroken at the news. Viktor had only been a few months away from his graduation and from returning home to his parents. For years, Yuuri had been waiting to see his brother again. Now, he wasn't sure that they would ever see each other again. As worried as he was about Vitya's disappearance, Yuuri couldn't help feeling a little betrayed, and more than a little abandoned.**

 _ **Didn't you want to come home, Vitya? You didn't want to see us... Mama, and Father... You didn't want to see me?**_ **He'd tried not to think about it too much, but it was hard not to.**

 **He hardly noticed when they pulled up to a wooded enclosure and Katerina opened the driver's side door.**

 **"Here we are, Yuratchka," she said, still sounding a little distant. A second later she turned to smile at him, all the sadness gone from her voice. "I specifically asked Mikhail to let me handle this part of your training," she said as she stepped out and waited for him to do the same before locking the doors. She opened the trunk and pulled out their bags. "I didn't want Nikita stealing my fun," she said, pouting slightly. "He already got to teach you some of my favorite things, I wish he'd consulted with me first..."**

 **She tossed his bag at him, and he caught it clumsily.**

 **"Contacts on,** ** _pryanichek_** **," she called warmly as she began to unzip her bag. In the time it took Yuuri to put his contacts in, she'd closed the trunk, a nasty looking rifle slung over her shoulder. It clashed terribly with her skin-tight capris and fashionable summer blouse.**

 **"Is that... an assault rifle?" he asked, curious. Katerina had been purposefully vague about what she would be teaching him that morning; she'd been excitedly planning it for weeks, but she would only wink and tell him it had to do with learning how to shoot. Yuuri had been raised on the occasional story of Katerina's glory days in the** ** _bratva,_** **so he knew she was a capable fighter, even if she was now a kind and happy-go-lucky housewife and mother.**

 **"Nope!" she said, beaming. "This is a sniper rifle." She made her way toward the enclosure and beckoned for him to follow.**

 **"You know how to use one?" he asked, a little surprised. Katerina paused and frowned.**

 **"Do I** ** _know_** **how to use one? Yuratchka, really, I expected more from you," she scolded, pinching his cheek. "You know I was a hit-woman."**

 **"A what?"**

 **"Like a hitman. But not a man," she said vaguely as she led him into a small area with sandbags. "My job was to... shoot things, basically," she said as she knelt on the ground to prepare the rifle. "Up close, far away, on the front lines, hidden on a roof... whatever my** ** _avtoriyet_** **asked me to do. I was very good at it," she smiled brightly. "You won't need this skill very often in the higher ranks, but it's still useful."**

 **"I'm going to use it?" he asked, hesitating. The rifle was far larger than any gun he'd ever practiced with, and it made him slightly uneasy. Katerina reached out for one of his hands.**

 **"It'll be fine,** ** _pryanichek._** **I promise," she said, winking at him. "Your mama is the Silver Devil; what could go wrong?"**

 **Yuuri thought it was best not to mention that Katerina was known to occasionally set the kitchen on fire while making dinner.**

* * *

It was still raining when the group returned to the main road, but the crowds had thinned considerably since the taxis had dropped them off.

"It's after midnight, after all," Pyotr noted, barely stifling a yawn. "That took a bit longer than I thought it would."

"Isn't there something to eat?" Alyosha complained, his bizarre raincoat pulled tight around his face. "We were in there for _hours,_ and we haven't had a single meal since we left Japan."

"If you're hungry, find something to eat," Viktor said as he pulled out his phone to call for a cab.

"Are we dismissed, then, sir?" Antona asked, her eyes on Yuuri. He nodded.

"Go ahead."

"Yes, sir," she said, bowing slightly. Yuuri turned to his sister.

"Mari, if you're hungry, you can go with them," he noted in Japanese. Mari shook her head.

"No, I'm tired. That conversation took a lot out of me..."

"Getting old, _Onee-san_?" he teased as Viktor enunciated their location as best as he could.

"Not even close," she scoffed, but she was grinning slightly. "I'm only thirty, brat."

"Only, huh," Yuuri chuckled, pulling out a cigarette. "You're not that much younger than my mother."

"Ugh, don't say that," she shivered. "It's bad enough that I'm not that much younger than _my own_ mother."

"Oh ho," he said in a scandalized tone. "Katsuki Toshiya liked them young, huh?"

"Oh shut up, he was pretty young himself," she muttered.

Yuuri was about to tell her that he was only teasing when Viktor held out his hand in front of him.

"Cigarette," he said firmly in Russian.

"Not this again, Vitya," he groaned. "Let me smoke in peace."

"You just had a cigarette. That's enough for today," Viktor insisted.

"You're not my mother," Yuuri said sharply.

"No, but I've already told you, Yuratchka. It's my job to make sure you live a long life. Besides, Mother would tell you the same thing."

 _No one said I wanted a long life,_ Yuuri thought irritably, but he knew it would only upset Vitya if he said it aloud.

"Please, Yuuri? For me?" Viktor asked, using the puppy-dog look that Yuuri had a hard time refusing.

"Fine," he grunted, handing over the cigarette. "But you're paying it back later."

Viktor's eyes gleamed with barely concealed amusement. "Of course," he said smoothly.

 _Oh, Vitya... I'll make you regret this one for sure._

The thought of what he would do to punish Viktor once they arrived at their hotel room let him forget how tired the conversation with Liuxian had left him.

* * *

 **Yuuri was sitting on a crate, watching Nikita work as usual, but he kept finding his thoughts wandering back to his lesson with his mother the day before. She'd been kind and patient with him, not unlike Nikita was, but there was something fundamentally different about their teaching styles that he couldn't quite pin down. It was bothering him.**

 **"Yuratchka, are you paying attention?" Nikita asked, holding up a pair of bloodied gardening shears. The victim this time had been paralyzed with a shot of anesthesia, though he was fully awake as Nikita snapped off each of his fingers slowly.**

 **Yuuri blinked for a moment, confused. "Huh?"**

 **Nikita shot him a concerned look.**

 **"Are you alright? You usually ask a lot of questions. Did something happen?"**

 **"No, not really," Yuuri said as Nikita set back to work on the next appendage. The man's eyes were wide with terror, but he was unable to move or even utter a sound.**

 **"How did your lesson with Katerina Ivanovna go?"**

 **"It was fine," he said, propping his chin on his open palm. "We shot at close range. Next time, Mother says we'll shoot something further away."**

 **"Did you like the rifle?"**

 **"About as much as any gun," Yuuri shrugged, still trying to figure out the source of his unease. "Mother is very good though."**

 **"She was the best," Nikita agreed. "She would have made** ** _avtoriyet_** **if she hadn't quit."**

 **"Mm."**

 **Another finger was removed with a satisfying crunch, and Yuuri felt a shiver of pleasure travel up his spine. But that in itself bothered him, though for another reason he'd been thinking about for quite some time now.**

 **"Nikita..." he said slowly. "Can I ask you something?"**

 **"Of course, Yuratchka. That's why you're here, aren't you?"**

 **"How come... how come you never... rape... any of the people we punish?"**

 **Nikita froze, his hands tight around the shears.**

 **"What?"**

 **"We do all kinds of things... but I've never seen you... do that to anyone," Yuuri said, feeling a bit sick at the thought.**

 **Nikita put down the shears and gave Yuuri a hard, calculating look.**

 **"There's nothing more disgusting than a rapist," he said bluntly. "They don't scar flesh the way we do; they hurt you on the inside, turn people into ugly, twisted, festering wounds. You know that better than anyone, Yuuri."**

 **Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek, hard.**

 **"I know."**

 **Nikita stood up and walked over to Yuuri. There was an odd look in his eyes, a look Yuuri had seen several times over the years, though more often of late. He reached out as if to pat his hair, but Nikita hesitated at the last moment, patting Yuuri's shoulder instead.**

 **"You and I, we're broken, Yuuri," he said. "Dirty, empty... tainted. They made us this way, though it's our own fault for allowing them to do it. We're sinners, you and I."**

 **"I know," Yuuri repeated, closing his eyes.**

 **"But, at the very least, we have** ** _some_** **control now, hmm?" Nikita asked. "And I'd rather not rape anyone... not when there's so many other wonderful ways to get someone to scream."**

 **When Yuuri looked up, Nikita was smiling at him, that odd look still reflected in his blue eyes.**

 _ **Oh,**_ **he thought, suddenly understanding why his lesson with Katerina had felt so different. She had praised him for doing well, had helped him herself whenever he had trouble, and she'd constantly coddled him with sweet nicknames and kisses.**

 **She'd been like... a mother.**

 **But Nikita was something else entirely, and Yuuri wasn't really sure what that was. Not anymore.**

* * *

Vitya closed the door to their hotel room tiredly, feeling sleepier than he remembered feeling in quite some time.

 _It took so long just to get them to check us in,_ he thought, pulling at his tie as he made for the bed. Yuuri had gone to the bathroom as soon as he opened the door; from the sound of it, Viktor guessed he'd started a shower.

"I should probably take one too," he muttered to himself as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. He doubted he'd be able to stay awake long enough to wait for Yuuri to finish, however. He gave up on undressing a moment later, falling back onto the mattress with a groan.

 _I'll just... rest my eyes a bit..._

He'd dozed off for perhaps ten minutes when he was awoken by a sudden movement. He blinked his eyes, but something was covering them.

"What the-?!" he said, meaning to reach up and remove whatever was blocking his vision. But his wrists were bound tightly behind his back, and a sudden wave of panic overcame him.

 _Shit, did I get caught?!_ he thought frantically, trying to think of a way to free himself. A moment later, the sound of Yuuri laughing cleared his fears away.

"Yuuri!" he said irritably. "What the hell?!"

The smell of shampoo was suddenly everywhere, and Viktor realized that Yuuri was right next to him.

"I told you you were going to pay it back later," he murmured into Viktor's ear. His breath was hot, his voice low, and Vitya felt his mouth go dry.

"I didn't think you meant tonight," he protested, knowing he was far too exhausted to play along.

"It doesn't matter what you thought I meant," Yuuri said, his tongue running along the nape of Vitya's neck. "Disobedient dogs need to be taught a lesson." His teeth caught on his earlobe, and Viktor felt an electric current run right through his body. He gave an involuntary yelp and Yuuri chuckled against his throat.

"I almost forgot how much you like being tied up," he teased, easing his pinky into Viktor's mouth.

 _Liar,_ Vitya thought, unable to resist sucking on Yuuri's finger with a helpless whimper. He was exhausted, but it didn't seem to matter; he didn't need to see or use his hands to know he was quickly getting hard.

"Eager, aren't you, Vitya?" Yuuri noted, clearly enjoying himself. He slid his finger out of Viktor's mouth, pressing his hand to his neck instead, just over his Adam's apple. Viktor felt Yuuri bite down on his shoulder, sucking hard on the skin, just the way Vitya liked it.

 _"Fuck,"_ he groaned to himself. Yuuri laughed.

"No, not yet. Not even _close,_ " he said, and Viktor knew he had that blissed out sadistic smile he only ever had when he was torturing someone or about to make Viktor beg for something.

 _He's going to draw it out,_ Viktor realized, and the thought only made him more aroused. Not being able to see or anticipate Yuuri's movements always made him frantic, desperate, and he knew Yuuri _loved_ seeing him like that.

He felt Yuuri working at the buttons on his shirt, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin. He gave a small cry as Yuuri ran his thumb over his nipple, pinching it hard a moment later.

 _Shit, why am I so sensitive?!_ he thought as Yuuri continued his tortuously slow exploration of Viktor's body. He was starting to sweat out of pure frustration and desire, clenching his teeth to prevent saying anything that might make Yuuri take even _longer._ But it was hard to hide it; ever since they'd gotten married, they'd been sleeping together nearly every night. Due to the traveling they'd been doing, however, it had been a couple of days since the last time, and Viktor was desperate to get off.

 _Honestly, two days without sex and I'm a wreck._ He bit his lip hard as Yuuri ran a finger over the bulge in his slacks before retreating back to safer ground. _I am whipped, so so whipped..._

 _God, actually, I kind of wish he_ did _have a whip._

The mental image was too much for him; he moaned aloud as Yuuri pressed his lips to the side of his neck, leaving what would surely be a bruised mark in the morning.

"That was fast," Yuuri said, sounding startled. "Usually you won't make a noise like that until you're really _really_ fucked out."

Viktor groaned. "I _am_ really fucked out," he said, his voice weak.

"But I only just got started-"

"Oh for God's sake, just _fuck me_ already," he pleaded. "I can't take anymore!"

He didn't expect it to work. Yuuri would never have mercy on him when he had him perfectly wrapped around his finger like this. And he didn't.

"Hmm? Begging already?" Viktor could almost _hear_ the smile in his voice, making him fidget in his restraints.

"I'll beg as much as you want, just _please..."_

"I wonder... should I?" his hand reached around Viktor's waist to rest invitingly on his thigh. Vitya trembled slightly as he rubbed circles into his flesh. "Or should I wait a bit longer?" he whispered into his ear. A moment later he felt a warm, wet something lick him there and a violent shiver struck Vitya.

 _"Please!"_

Yuuri laughed.

"Fine, I'll untie you first," he said, working at the knots at Viktor's wrists. He had perhaps a minute of freedom before his arms were pulled over his head and he was bound again.

 _"Yura!"_

"Oh don't pretend you don't like it," Yuuri snorted. He pulled away and Viktor realized he'd been tied to the bedpost. He had to swallow a painful lump in his throat.

"Now what?" he asked, trying to be sexy and playful. It came out shaky and desperate instead.

Yuuri didn't answer. Instead, Viktor felt his slacks being unbuttoned and pulled off mercilessly, followed by his underwear a moment later.

He almost cried. Yuuri was going to drag it out further, he could sense it. He was not at all surprised when he felt Yuuri bite the inside of his thigh, his nose very deliberately brushing against his dick. His fingers were pressing into Viktor's hips, holding him firmly in place as he teased mercilessly, kissing and sucking everything except what Viktor really _needed_ him to.

If he wasn't leaking by now, he would have been damn surprised.

"Yura, _enough_ ," he cried in an agonized voice as Yuuri ran his tongue lightly up his shaft before returning his attention to Vitya's thigh.

"That's more like it," Yuuri said, digging his fingernails into Viktor's skin, coaxing a loud moan out of his lover. "Beg, Vitya. Tell me what you want."

"I want you, please, please! Fuck me, Yura, just _do it!"_

Yuuri made a satisfied sound, taking Viktor into his mouth without another word.

Vitya was sure their neighbors could hear every obscene sound he made, but he was far too preoccupied to care. Yuuri was never slow once he got to the point of making Viktor beg the way he wanted him to. He was predatory, taking Vitya in as deeply as he could, sucking hard and enjoying every single sound he could get Viktor to make. He liked to bring Viktor right to the point of orgasm before stopping, and this time was no exception. He waited until Vitya was crying his name senselessly, saliva trickling from the corner of his mouth, before he let him go.

Viktor panted heavily, his body aching with the strain of his muscles contracting painfully. He knew what would come next, but he was surprised when Yuuri pulled the blindfold from his eyes. He blinked, confused.

"Yuuri?"

He was smiling, but it wasn't the sadistic grin he'd been imagining. Instead, it was an almost tender look, and he caressed Viktor's cheek gently before leaning in to kiss him deeply.

He wasn't sure what had brought it on, but when Yuuri pulled away, the smile was gone, his eyes glinting with unmasked desire.

"I want you to watch," he said licking Vitya's cheek.

"Whatever you want," Viktor breathed, far too gone to say anything clever.

Yuuri lifted one of his legs out of the way and did not bother to so much as warn Vitya before he entered him in one fluid motion.

Viktor had about a second after the initial shock and pleasure to realize that Yuuri had probably prepared lube beforehand, but then he started to move, and Vitya didn't think at all for several minutes after that.

"Yuuri!" he cried, relishing the pain and heat that came from being connected, feeling something inside him aching and hurting in the most pleasurable way possible. He wasn't going to last at all. He was going to come, he could feel it building, his nails digging into his palm. "Yura, I can't... I'm...!"

"No," Yuuri grunted firmly. He gave Vitya a reprimanding slap against his thigh, but it only made the pressure build further.

He tried to hold it in, but it was hopeless; he didn't have Yuuri's stamina. He came with a loud, pained cry, tightening around Yuuri, his arms straining against his bonds.

To his surprise, Yuuri came a moment later, breathing hard and biting down on Viktor's shoulder.

Neither of them moved for a few minutes.

"I told you not to come, you disobedient puppy," Yuuri muttered into Vitya's neck.

"I'm a masochist," Viktor said indignantly, his voice cracked. "If you tell me not to come and then you _slap_ me, what do you think is going to happen?! Besides, since when do you let me finishing stop you?"

"...Shut up." He pulled out, causing Viktor to wince. He paused, brushing the hair out of his eyes when he finally sat up. His face was flushed, his lips bright red. He looked so sexy, so beautiful... Viktor wanted to kiss him and hold him against his chest until they fell asleep.

"Yuratchka..." he finally managed to say.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think you could untie me now?"

* * *

 ** _"Viktor! Viktor, ¡levántate!"_**

 **Vitya groaned, turning away from the noise and burying his face in his pillow. Makkachin stirred slightly at his side but continued to sleep.**

 _ **"Viktor, si no te levantas tendré que echarte agua fría. ¡Vas a llegar tarde!"**_

 **"I have no idea what you're saying, Lucía," he muttered. "English, please."**

 **Something small climbed onto his back and smacked him between the shoulders.**

 **"Get up, Viktor!" Nicole's seven-year old daughter demanded. "You're gonna be late!"**

 **"What time is it?" he asked, sighing.**

 **"Nine," she said, hitting him again with her small hands. "Mom is waiting for you, hurry up!"**

 **Viktor pushed himself up suddenly, and Lucía toppled off his back. She muttered under her breath but seemed no worse for wear.**

 **"It's** ** _nine?!"_** **he cried, startling Makkachin awake.**

 **"I told you! You're late!"**

 **He nearly fell off the old mattress in his haste, searching for his slacks among the jumble of blankets and dirty clothes at the foot of his bed. Lucía handed him a clean shirt, her brown eyes staring at him with disapproval.**

 **"You can't keep going to work in dirty clothes," she said, crossing her arms.**

 **"I know, I keep forgetting to toss them in the wash," Vitya said as he pulled on his belt. "Damn, how did I oversleep this much?" he mumbled to himself.**

 **"You ignored your alarm. And then you ignored me," the girl said, pouting. Lucía was very fond of Viktor and often pestered him to play with her or to watch television with her.**

 **"Ack, sorry, Luci. I didn't mean to," he said gently, ruffling her brown hair.**

 **"Hmph, and you said you were going to help me with my homework tonight," she whined as he pulled on his jacket and adjusted the sleeves.**

 **"Rain check, I'll do it in the morning before you go to school," he called as he rushed down the hall to brush his teeth and comb his hair in the bathroom. Five minutes later her emerged looking far more refreshed and clean than he actually felt, and Lucía and Makkachin followed him down the hall to the front door.**

 **"What time will you be back?" she asked, clinging to Makkachin's neck.**

 **"Around four or five, I guess," he said, grabbing his keys from the hook next to the door. "Remember, don't open the door for anyone," he said firmly.**

 **"I know."**

 **"And Makkachin is a terrible guard dog, so don't rely on him if someone breaks in."**

 **"Mhm."**

 **"Call the police immediately and hide somewhere they won't look, alright?"**

 **"Yessir," she said, giving him a mock salute. He chuckled and winked at her.**

 **"Be good, both of you. Your mom and I will be back before you know it."**

 _ **"Con cuidado, Viktor,"**_ **she called as he closed the door.**

 **He hurried down the apartment stairs two at a time, the humid night air thick and overwhelming.**

 _ **No matter how many years I live here, I'll never get used to these awful summers,**_ **he thought, frustrated as he unbuttoned his collar. Nicole was waiting for him at the corner, just as Lucía had said.**

 **"Oversleep again?" she asked, grinning as he reached her.**

 **"Sorry," he panted. The air was hard to breathe in.**

 **"It's alright, we'll get there if we walk quickly."**

 **They set off along the familiar route, Viktor trying hard not to nod off. He'd been sleeping poorly lately; he was sure he was having recurring nightmares, though he could never remember the details when he woke up. He'd taken to drinking a lot of caffeine while at work, though it made him feel shaky and more tired once it wore off.**

 **"Did you call your family, Viktor?" Nicole asked as they crossed the street.**

 **"No," he admitted, feeling guilty. "I meant to, but..."**

 **"You're ashamed?" she asked nonchalantly. Nicole was often like this, blunt and to the point. He'd grown used to the personal questions quickly, ever since he'd quit school (against Nicole's advice) and moved in with her and Lucía.**

 **"Well... I know Father will be angry," he admitted. "I'd really rather not deal with that yet."**

 **"What about your mother and little brother?"**

 **His heart gave a twinge of pain.**

 **"I... try not to think about them too much," he sighed, hands in his pockets.**

 **"Don't you think they'll be worried?"**

 **"You're really stabbing me where it hurts, tonight," he said, wincing. Nicole laughed loudly, her rich accent coloring the sounds with warmth.**

 **"I'm sorry, honey. I'm just worried about you," she said, patting his shoulder. "And as a mother, I can only imagine how afraid** ** _your_** **mother is, not knowing where you are."**

 **"Hmph, my mother isn't afraid of anything," he chuckled. "I could probably disappear for ten years, show up, and she'd just ask me if I wanted** ** _borscht_** **for dinner."**

 **"If I were your mother, I'd beat you into next week if you disappeared for ten years," she frowned. "It's been four months since you left your uncle's house. No mother sits around without a care when their child is missing."**

 **"No, I guess you're right," he conceded.** ** _Though if the stories are true, it's more likely she's been servicing her gun collection for immediate use._**

 **"I won't push you to contact them," she said as they reached the club. "But I think you miss them, Viktor. Your uncle and his family too."**

 **"I don't know," he said awkwardly, brushing the hair from his face nervously. "My uncle will probably kill me if I show up at his place. And it's been so long since I saw my parents... I'm afraid that they'll be just as angry... and disappointed."**

 **Nicole have a long, tired sigh, placing her hands on her hips.**

 **"Look Viktor, Lucía and I love you, you know that. You've been a great help with my girl, and if you hadn't been here to stop that drunkard from beating Yesenia last month, she would have died."**

 **"It's my job," he shrugged. "I'm a bodyguard, remember?"**

 **"I know, but that's not my point," she said sharply. "You're like my younger brother, Viktor. And I think, as we say in Puerto Rico,** ** _''que ya es tiempo de que saques los cojones.'"_**

 **"What does that mean?" he asked, puzzled.**

 **"It means it's time to grow a pair," she said simply as she pushed the door open, leaving him standing outside in the sweltering July evening.**

* * *

 **Notes:**

LOL, I'm going to hell. I'm not used to writing all out porn, k. I know it's terrible. I'll stick with erotica in the future.

I spent all day writing and I just... did not even get to the point I MEANT to get to, damn it. I guess it'll be next chapter, *sigh*.

Thank you so much for reading, and I really hope this chapter isn't utter shit, because honestly, I feel like it is. Regardless, please let me know what you think, I live for your comments.

oTL I NEED TO SLEEP.

 **Translation Notes:**

1) _pryanichek:_ An affectionate nickname; Katerina is actually likening him to a type of Russian sweet.

2) _Onee-san:_ Japanese for "older sister." Less respectful than _Ane-ue._

3) _Levantate:_ Spanish for "get up."

4) _Viktor, si no te levantas tendré que echarte agua fría. ¡Vas a llegar tarde!:_ Spanish for "If you don't get up, I'll have to throw cold water on you! You'll be late!"

5) _Con cuidado:_ Spanish for "be careful."


	12. Unraveled

His arms were sore.

Viktor winced as Yuuri shifted in his embrace, his shoulders aching as Yuuri's nose buried into the crook of his arm. He'd strained his muscles against his bonds earlier, but as much as it hurt, Vitya didn't mind it. It was a warm pain, a welcome one, and Viktor wouldn't wish it away for anything.

It was proof that Yuuri wanted him, proof that he was needed.

Viktor suddenly recalled the gentle expression Yuuri had had earlier. It was fleeting, but Viktor would never forget the way his brown eyes softened as they looked down at him, or the tender way Yuuri's lips caressed his own. As much as he'd enjoyed being roughed up, it was those moments that meant the most to Vitya, and the moments that he would tuck away deep into his heart, just beneath the marriage registration in his breast pocket.

He smiled to himself and looked down at the soft black hair resting on his arm. He slipped a hand into it, gently tousling the strands before leaning in to press a kiss to it. Yuuri stirred slightly, pressing his cheek to Viktor's chest, his breathing still even and slow.

 _Yuuri,_ Viktor thought, fighting the urge to touch Yuuri's face and lips. His mouth was slightly open and Viktor longed to kiss him, but he didn't dare. Yuuri had fallen asleep almost as soon as he'd untied Viktor and settled in his arms; he was clearly exhausted after the long night, and as much as Vitya had wanted to caress and stroke his lover once he was free, as much as he wanted to show him how much he loved him, he didn't want to tire him further.

 _"Ya lyublyu tebya,"_ he whispered into Yuuri's hair. He pulled him in as close as he could without waking him, his heart racing in his ribcage. He closed his eyes, thinking about the past, about how he'd come to love the man beside him as more than just a brother. It hadn't happened suddenly; it had taken a lot of time for Viktor to realize his own feelings, and even more for him to accept them.

He'd been so stupid, so self-absorbed. Even after stumbling upon the truth, he'd been useless when Yuuri had needed him most. He'd been afraid to take the definitive step into the darkness that had surrounded Yuuri for so long.

 _If I'd stopped being such a coward, for just a moment... if I'd just let Yuuri in, instead of keeping him at arm's length for so long..._

 _No, there's no point in thinking about that now,_ he scolded himself, closing his eyes tightly. _You can't go back, Vitya. You can't change what you did. You can't save him from what you did to him._

His heart ached painfully, and the unwanted thoughts continued to flood in from the deepest recesses of his memory.

"It's my fault. All my fault..." he muttered to himself, digging his own fingernails into his wrist.

"Mm... Vitya...?" Yuuri's voice was thick and sleepy, obviously still confused. Viktor mentally berated himself for having spoken aloud and pressed his body against Yuuri's back, desperate to keep him from turning and seeing his expression.

"Sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Did you say something?"

"Nothing at all," Viktor lied, hiding his face in Yuuri's shoulder. "I just missed you."

"How can you miss me if I'm right here?" Yuuri scoffed, trying to turn. Viktor tightened his hold around his waist.

"I just did," he muttered. "I missed hearing you and I missed telling you that I love you."

Yuuri made a small noise somewhere between annoyance and amusement. "That's a surprisingly soft thing to say after begging me to fuck you."

"Is it?" he asked, placing a small kiss on the side of his neck. "I don't really see the difference, Yuratchka."

Yuuri gave a small laugh. "You are a very dedicated dog, Vitya."

"Mhm," Viktor admitted, closing his eyes. "You can do whatever you like to me, Yuuri, and I will still come back to you no matter what. I belong to you."

Yuuri didn't reply; he merely touched the back of Viktor's hands lightly with his fingertips.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked a minute later, his tone strained.

"Huh?"

"Earlier," Yuuri said. "When you were tied up. Did I hurt you?" His voice was oddly small, like a child's, and though Viktor couldn't see his expression, he knew it was probably pained.

"No," Viktor said firmly. "You did nothing that I didn't want, Yura."

Yuuri seemed to relax slightly, nodding to himself.

"Good..." he said softly. "I thought, since you said I can do anything I want..."

Viktor kissed his shoulder in response, knowing that Yuuri was thinking of something else.

"I wanted it. I wanted you, Yura." His tongue traced a line to Yuuri's ear, and a soft, longing sound escaped Yuuri's lips.

"You're a liar, Vitya," he said suddenly, his chest heaving slightly as Viktor's fingers massaged into his waist.

Viktor blinked, confused. "What?"

"You're not acting like you _wanted_ me in the past. You're acting like you want me _now,_ " he chuckled.

Viktor gave a small snort of laughter. "That isn't a lie, Yuuri. I always want you." He tugged Yuuri's face toward him, finally looking him in the eye. He kissed him gently, carefully, as if he was afraid Yuuri might break.

"Do you ever run out of sweet nothings to whisper?" Yuuri muttered into the kiss.

"I mean every single word," Viktor huffed, pouting slightly as he pulled away. "And I know you like them," he added, his hand wandering down Yuuri's stomach until he found what he was looking for, hard and waiting for his touch. "I love you, _zolotse,"_ he breathed, kissing Yuuri again, insistent now.

Yuuri moaned slightly against his mouth at the words, and Vitya knew neither of them would be going back to sleep anytime soon.

* * *

 **"Yuratchka, the guests are here!" Mikhail called from the foyer. Yuuri frowned at himself in the mirror, trying to get his hair to lie flat.**

 _ **I need a haircut,**_ **he thought as he gave up and pulled on his glasses. The boy that stared back at him from the mirror was beginning to look lanky and awkward, more so than usual. He'd finally begun to grow, though he was still considered fairly short by Russian standards and his face was still distinctly rounded and feminine. It reminded him of the mother he'd seen in the photograph on the mantelpiece, but it also made him feel sick to his stomach.**

 _ **'You might as well be a fucking girl.'**_

 **It didn't matter how many years passed or how often he looked at it in the mirror; it was a face that brought painful memories, and a face that Yuuri hated.**

 **"** ** _Pryanichek?_** **" Katerina called, and Yuuri turned away to hurry downstairs.**

 **"Coming, Mother," he said as he came into the hall. He could see several people speaking with his Father, some of which he recognized as members of the** ** _bratva's_** **inner circle. Everyone was dressed formally, including his parents. He felt incredibly self conscious as he descended to the foyer and reached Katerina's side, fidgeting with his sleeves as he went.**

 **She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and turned to smile at him.**

 **"You look so handsome, Yuratchka," she said, blue eyes sparkling in the evening light as she brushed the hair from his face. A pair of sapphires were dangling from her ears, her hair tied back into an elegant plait. She looked stunning in her favorite blue dress, a model of beauty and innocent, motherly charm; Yuuri had to remind himself that this was the same woman who had been such a deadly shot that she'd been universally feared by enemies of the** ** _bratva_** **in her youth.**

 **"Mm," he said, not at all assured by the compliment. He was sure he looked like an idiot, but he'd long learned not to voice his insecurities in front of his mother; she always blamed herself for his unhappiness.**

 **"Ah, there you are, Yuratchka," Mikhail said, smiling kindly at him as he finished a conversation with one of his brigadiers. His yellow-blond hair was slicked back and his suit was of a higher quality than usual, a real feat considering he always wore expensive designs. "You look good in that, just like Vit-" he suddenly paused, his eyes growing dark. No one spoke about Viktor in the Nikiforov household anymore.**

 **Katerina's grip on Yuuri's shoulder tightened slightly. She was always hurt most by the mention of her son; though Yuuri was sure she would be the first to shoot him if he ever dared to show his face at home after having been missing for nearly a year.**

 **"You look very smart," Mikhail corrected himself. He looked away and caught someone else's eye. "Oi, Yakov!"**

 **A stern-looking old man with a rather shabby hat stepped from the crowd, ushering forward a small red-headed girl in a green dress who looked like she would rather be anywhere else.**

 **"Ah, Katya, Misha, thank you for inviting us," the man said warmly. The girl muttered something but it was too low for Yuuri to hear. She had blue eyes like Katerina, but they were a different shape and a deeper color, and she was pouting fiercely, staring down at the carpet. Yuuri had never seen her before, though he recognized the old man as Yakov Feltman, Mikhail's** ** _obshchak_** **, immediately.**

 **"Don't be silly," Katerina smiled. "You're always welcome here, Yakov. You're family."**

 **"Where's Lilia?" Mikhail asked, looking around for Yakov's wife. The old man shook his head, frowning.**

 **"We had another fight," he grumbled. "She didn't want me to bring Mila."**

 **"This is her, then?" Mikhail asked, curious. "She's very cute."**

 **Yakov seemed to puff up proudly at the compliment. "Thank you, she's doing much better now. She's not afraid of men anymore."**

 **The girl's eyes suddenly flicked up and caught Yuuri's. She stared at him for a moment, confused.**

 **"You have weird eyes," she said suddenly, and Yuuri gave a violent start. It had been a long time since anyone dared to call him a** ** _yaposhka_** **to his face, but he could hear the slur in the patronizing glances his classmates and teachers gave him when they thought he wasn't looking. It still made his blood run cold with fear that they could see the taint on his soul.**

 **But it wasn't Yuuri or Katerina (always overprotective when it came to people questioning her son's parentage) who rebuked the girl; Yakov himself promptly smacked her over the head.**

 **"Don't be rude, Mila," he said sharply. "Watch your tongue in front of Yuri Mikhailovich or I'll cut it out myself."**

 **To Yuuri's immense relief, the girl apologized petulantly, rubbing her head as she did so. Yakov sighed.**

 **"Sorry, Yuratchka," he said, offering him a sweet. "Mila is still recovering, so she's a bit rough around the edges and blurts out whatever comes into her head. But she's a smart kid, and she didn't mean anything by it."**

 **"It's okay," he muttered, accepting the candy. Yakov had always treated him like a child, no matter how old he got. He suspected it had something to do with his height; even at fifteen, he was only slightly taller than Mila.**

 **"Where's Nikita?" Yakov asked Mikhail as he straightened up. The sound of his mentor's name sent an involuntary shiver down Yuuri's spine.**

 **"He'll be here soon," Mikhail said, glancing at his watch. "Seems his parents needed him for something."**

 **Yakov clicked his tongue derisively.**

 **"Bastards. They only want him around when it suits them," he growled. "Ever since they got him back, they've treated him like he's tainted."**

 **"Still, it's his family, Yakov..."**

 **"Family doesn't throw you away after they find out you've been viola-"**

 **Katerina suddenly cut in.**

 **"Yakov, Misha, I think it's time for dinner," she said sharply, her nails momentarily digging into Yuuri's shoulder.**

* * *

They were woken around dawn by an urgent knock at their door. Viktor groaned against Yuuri's ear, pulling him against his broad chest and preventing him from moving.

"Vitya, the door," Yuuri muttered, too tired to resist Viktor's possessive gestures.

"No," Viktor said groggily. "Don't want to." They nearly drifted off once more when the sound came again.

"Boss! You awake?!"

"That Alyosha," Vitya grumbled angrily. "He needs some common sense, for fuck's sake."

"You know he doesn't have any," Yuuri said tiredly.

"You couldn't have picked a less annoying _avtoriyet?"_

"Alyosha is a computer genius. No one else has that kind of skill, and no one else in that field is odd enough to actually want to go into the _bratva_ of their own free will. Now quit stalling and get the door, Vitya," he said, waving Viktor away. He obeyed, though not before pulling the covers over Yuuri's shoulders to hide them from view. It was a tender gesture, and Yuuri was thankful for it; he couldn't stand anyone but Viktor to look at him naked.

Yuuri heard the door open a minute later.

"What the hell do you want at this hour, Alyosha?" Viktor asked irritably. There was a pause.

"Were you... uh, busy, commander?" Alexei asked, and from the tone of his voice, Yuuri realized that Vitya had probably opened the door without bothering to put on a single piece of clothing. The thought of Viktor standing at the door, glaring down at his subordinate with his dick out was so amusing that Yuuri nearly laughed aloud.

"I was asleep, obviously," Viktor grunted. "You better have a good reason for waking us."

"I finished running the number through the generator," Alexei said. Yuuri suddenly threw off the covers and sat up.

"Vitya, my robe," he said firmly as he pulled on his glasses. Viktor turned back toward him, still holding the door open.

"It's in the bathroom," he said, keeping Alyosha from looking into their room. Yuuri hurried to grab it and joined them at the door, pulling the belt tight around his waist.

"Where does the number go?" Yuuri asked immediately, stepping under Vitya's arm. Alexei held out a piece of paper wordlessly and Yuuri yanked it from his hands, reading feverishly. "Korea?"

"No," Alexei said, shaking his head. "It _does_ correspond with Korea, but I can only tell that by the international code and crosschecking it with Katsuki Toshiya's records. However, that particular code is for a blocked number of some sort. Even if I'd been able to guess the rest of the numbers accurately, it wouldn't go through for just anyone."

"What does that mean?" Viktor asked, frowning.

"It means it's another dead end," Yuuri said, anger building up in his heart.

 _What the fuck is going on?!_

"Did you find out why the number was corrupted in the first place, Alyosha?" Viktor asked, placing a gentle hand around Yuuri's waist.

"I don't have the results on me, but it seems to be deliberate," the _avtoriyet_ reported as he pulled his phone from his pocket and typed something into it quickly. "Too methodical; someone went into those records and tried to erase information on purpose."

"Who would do that?" Yuuri asked, crumpling the paper up in his hand. He didn't really need an answer to guess.

"Agape," Viktor said, his fingers digging into Yuuri's waist slightly. Yuuri looked up at him to see that his blue eyes were dark with anger and something else. Something primal and overbearing.

 _Fear._

* * *

 **Nikita arrived half an hour after everyone else. It wasn't that strange for someone to show up late to** ** _bratva_** **gatherings like this, even during the holidays, but Yuuri could tell something was wrong as soon as he took his place at Mikhail's side. His expression was oddly blank, not at all like the usual kind smile he had in public, and nothing like the odd, piercing look or the sadistic, blissful smile Yuuri had grown so used to seeing. It made him uneasy.**

 **"Nikita," he said softly, pulling at his sleeve while the rest of the inner circle laughed over conversation. It took a full minute for Nikita to look up from his plate and realize he was being called.**

 **"Mm," he said simply, pulling his sleeve away from the boy automatically. A sharp pain went through Yuuri's heart as he did. Lately, Nikita had been putting a great deal of distance between them, and it made Yuuri's stomach hurt painfully whenever he pulled away.**

 ** _It's like he's afraid to touch me,_** **Yuuri thought, swallowing down the nausea that was rising in the back of his throat. The thought terrified him; Nikita was the only person that Yuuri thought could understand and embrace his twisted, ugly heart.**

 **"Are you okay, Nikita?" he asked hesitantly, trying not to touch his mentor. Nikita's expression remained blank as he ate, and he didn't seem to have heard the question.**

 **Yuuri clutched at his slacks anxiously; Nikita had never outright ignored him before.**

 **"Commander! When d'ya get here, ya shly dog?!" Pyotr Nikitovich threw an arm over Nikita's shoulder, his face flushed and his hand clutching a glass of wine. "Yer late!" he hiccuped.**

 **Nikita blinked and the usual kind smile returned, though Yuuri noticed that it didn't reach his eyes.**

 **"Pyotr, you've drunk too much, as usual," he chided, pulling the younger man off him. "Since Antona isn't telling you to get a grip, I'm supposing she's just as wasted somewhere nearby, hmm?"**

 **"I dunno whatta shtiff, boring woman like that ish up ta," Pyotr said indignantly. "Who caresh about her?"**

 **"You're a terrible liar," Nikita noted nonchalantly as he cut into his steak. "You two have been seen going into brothels together for months."**

 **"Have *hic* not."**

 **Nikita turned to say something but suddenly seemed to notice Yuuri's eyes on him and he froze. It was like he hadn't realized he was there at all until that moment, and his blue eyes flashed with something like anger.**

 **"Yuratchka," he said in a measured tone. "Why are you seated here?"**

 **"Because I'm your student," Yuuri said, confused by the question. He always sat at Nikita's side at family gatherings; it was his place as Nikita's successor to sit just after him on the right side of the table. Nikita's eyes narrowed, and he looked up at Mikhail.**

 **"Misha, what's the meaning of this?" he said suddenly, interrupting the** ** _pakhan's_** **conversation with Yakov.**

 **"Hmm? What is it, Nika?" Mikhail asked, caught off guard.**

 **"Why did you seat Yuuri here?"**

 **Yuuri's father frowned. "That's where he always sits."**

 **"I know that, but he's not in line to be** ** _sovietnik_** **anymore, now that Viktor Mikhailovich is gone."**

 **Silence fell around the table, and several of the** ** _avtoriyets_** **turned wary eyes toward Mikhail. Katerina seemed to be clutching her knife with unnatural force, her knuckles turning white.**

 **"Nikita, we'll discuss this later," Mikhail said tensely.**

 **"You can't keep pretending he's going to come back," Nikita insisted. "I won't waste any more of Yuratchka's time if he's not going to be** ** _sovietnik_** **."**

 **"I said we'd discuss it** ** _later."_**

 **"For all we know, Viktor is dead, Misha!"**

 **A loud, terrible noise echoed through the room; Katerina had smashed her knife into her plate at full force, shattering it and lodging it into the table.**

 **"Vitya is** ** _not_** **dead!" she hissed, her eyes glowering dangerously, like an animal's. Nikita wasn't dissuaded.**

 **"Katya, no one wants him to be dead," he said gently. "But it's been a year, and we haven't heard a word from him. You can't count on an heir who's disappeared. Not when you have Yuuri."**

 **Yuuri felt as though ice had been poured into his veins.** ** _Me?! Pakhan?! No! I'm just a dog, Vitya's dog!_**

 **"Yuuri can't be** ** _pakhan,"_** **Mikhail said firmly. "He's the Katsuki heir, he can't lead two groups at once."**

 **"What Katsuki heir?! There** ** _is_** **no Katsuki group left!" Nikita shouted, slamming his hands down on the table. "And there's no point in teaching him to be a** ** _sovietnik_** **when there's no** ** _pakhan_** **to protect! I won't do it!"**

 **"Ni-Nikita...!" Yuuri pleaded, trying to take Nikita's sleeve again. "P-please, don't-" Nikita brushed him away.**

 **"Nikita, you're overstepping your authority!" Yakov barked from across the table. "Show Misha your respect, apologize!"**

 **"Yakov, it's alright," Mikhail said, glancing at his wife sitting next to him. Some of her hair had come undone and was covering her face, making it hard to read her expression. "Nikita... it sounds to me like you just don't want to teach Yuuri anymore."**

 **A strange look came over Nikita's eyes, though it wasn't quite the same as the one Yuuri had seen before.**

 **"That's not... I just-!" He clutched the tablecloth angrily for a moment, his face clouded over. It took him a little while to calm down, but when he did, he immediately bowed to Mikhail and Katerina. "Please forgive my rudeness,** ** _Papa,_** **Katya Ivanovna. Punish me as you see fit."**

 **Katerina stood up and strode over to him, her eyes cold as ice. She raised a hand and slapped him heavily across the face. The sound echoed horribly in the thick silence.**

 **"** ** _Never_** **insinuate that my son is dead again, Nikita Pavlovich."**

 **Nikita closed his eyes and accepted the blow, muttering his apologies.**

 **"Get out of my house until you've cooled your head," she snarled. He bowed deeply to her and did as she asked. When he was gone, the guests all began to speak at once, and no one noticed Yuuri slip out of the room and go after his teacher in silence.**

* * *

"So our only course of action really is to contact Okukawa Minako, huh..."

Mari sighed, leaning back against the sofa in her room.

"Unfortunately, yes," Yuuri said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was starting to get a migraine.

"I get a bad feeling whenever I have to deal with the people in Fukuoka," Mari said, clicking her tongue impatiently. "They _really_ hate the Katsukis. I was shot at the first time I showed up for a business deal. They didn't ask any questions once they heard I was Toshiya's daughter."

"Hah, I'm surprised you let them get away with it," Yuuri said.

"I didn't. I shot one of their men in the stomach. We almost went to war," she grimaced. "Jirou, my right hand, was the one who quickly managed to salvage the situation as self-defense. We had to promise not to step foot in Okukawa territory after that."

"Won't that make it difficult to speak to their leader?" Viktor asked from behind Yuuri's chair. Even when it was just the three of them, he was always hesitant to sit with the siblings.

"Probably," she said bluntly. "They'll be open to talking to you Nikiforovs, though... probably. Me coming along is the real problem."

"I'd hate to ask you to stay behind," Yuuri said, trying to think of a workaround. "This concerns you too, sister."

"I guess it'll depend on what you're worth, Yuuri," she said, pulling a cigarette from her box. "Your aunt might overlook my presence if she's interested in speaking to her nephew."

"Ji Liuxian didn't seem all that confident that she would," Viktor said, and Yuuri could hear the worry in his voice.

Mari put her feet up on the small glass table, smoking thoughtfully as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Hey," she said suddenly. "In Russia, do people usually assume you're the leader just by looking at you?"

"No, actually," Yuuri said, frowning slightly. "It's a bit of a secret, to be honest."

"Because you're Japanese?"

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.

"I suppose. In any case, only the inner circle knows the truth. Vitya usually poses as the leader in public situations."

"Brother-in-law, huh," she said, looking up at Viktor as her fingers tapped against the arm of the sofa. "And you said your other right hand is a woman, right?"

"My _obshchak?_ Yes, Mila Babicheva."

"If I dyed my hair, I could probably pass for a Half," she suggested, blowing out a ring of smoke.

"What's a Half?" Viktor asked, confused.

"It's slang," Yuuri explained dully. "Though badly translated slang. Basically, if you're half-foreigner, you're sometimes called a Half in Japan. If you're a quarter-foreigner, you're a Quarter."

"Right," Mari said. "And if I dyed my hair and wore a suit like the rest of you, I could probably pass through undetected as a Japanese-Russian mutt. No offense, Yuuri."

"None taken," he said smoothy.

"If you play the part of brother-in-law's subordinate, we can probably get in to speak with Minako without too much fuss. The only problem is that I can't speak Russian."

"I think Alyosha could take care of that," Yuuri said. "If we fitted you with an earpiece, he could translate for you and tell you what to say if something comes up."

"This plan sounds unnecessarily complicated, Yuuri..." Viktor said. "Couldn't we just go ourselves and wear a microphone so _Ane-ue_ can hear the conversation?"

"No. I want to hear what the Okukawas have to say in person," she huffed. "My father was killed by these Agape bastards as much as yours was, Nikiforov."

"Yes, but if you're discovered, we'll all be in danger."

"Vitya, quit worrying," Yuuri said sharply. "She has a right to make her own decisions."

Viktor fell silent, and Mari gave them both a small smile.

"Sorry, brother-in-law. I know you're just worried about Yuuri, but I promise I won't let anything happen to him either, even if it costs me my life. I promised my father I'd watch over my little brother, and I'd hate to lose him twice."

"Don't you dare, Mari. I'm not asking you to die for me," Yuuri said, angry that she would consider throwing her life away for him.

She scoffed. "You can't tell me what to do, _boy_ ," she said sharply. "Besides, I'm not planning to die if I can help it. I'm just trying to get your wife to relax a little. He's not the only one who worries about you," she said, waving her cigarette around.

"...Thank you, _Ane-ue,_ " Viktor said softly, and he sounded so relieved that Yuuri felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

* * *

 **"How come Makkachin doesn't talk?"**

 **"Makkachin is a dog, Luci."**

 **"So is the dog in the movie, but** ** _he_** **talks," Lucía insisted, frowning at the television as she shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Viktor chuckled.**

 **"It's a movie. It's not real."**

 **"Nuh** ** _uhhh_** **, it said 'true story' at the beginning!" she said, annoyed. "** ** _No seas mentiroso."_**

 **"For the last time, Luci,** ** _English, please,"_** **Vitya groaned. "And just because it says it's** ** _based_** **on a true story doesn't mean it's completely accurate." The girl in his lap made a disgruntled noise and muttered something else in Spanish under her breath.**

 _ **This kid is a real pain,**_ **he thought to himself tiredly.** ** _If she wasn't so cute, she'd drive everyone crazy._**

 **The sound of the door unlocking made everyone, including Makkachin, turn toward the entrance.**

 **"Welcome back, Nicole," Viktor smiled as Lucía jumped off the couch to run to her mother.**

 _ **"¡Mama!"**_ **she shouted as she threw herself into Nicole's arms, and the young prostitute was only too happy to drop the bags she was carrying to catch her daughter and cover her face in kisses.**

 **"Ahh,** ** _ahi esta mi nena_** **..."** **she laughed. "Did you behave for Viktor, Lucía?"**

 **"She was only mildly annoying today," Viktor grinned as he joined them at the door. Nicole beamed.**

 **"Great! Thank you for looking after her while I was out."**

 **"Of course," he said, reaching to pick up the bags from the ground. "I wasn't able to make her anything to eat, though."**

 **Nicole put Lucía down and tied her hair back. "That's fine. Ever since you set that cabinet on fire, I think it's best if you stay away from the kitchen."**

 **"Fair enough," he chuckled as he carried the groceries to the small kitchen and began to put them away. "My mother was just as terrible," he said as he worked. "She was a good cook, but if someone wasn't watching her while she worked, she would forget to turn the fire off, or leave the gas on, or just completely forget something was in the oven until it was burned to a crisp."**

 **Nicole placed a hand on his shoulder.**

 **"Viktor, call her," she said firmly.**

 **He paused, a bushel of cilantro in his hands.**

 **"I... I can't," he muttered as he washed the vegetables. "I can't just show up now, after all this time..."**

 **She sighed, leaning against the counter. "Before, it was because you were ashamed after you ran away, and now it's because you've been missing for so long. Do you ever run out of excuses?"**

 _ **No,**_ **he thought as he turned the faucet off.** ** _I'm a coward, after all._**

 **"I just can't do it, Nicole."**

 **"Your mother is probably crying herself to sleep every night. She probably thinks you're dead."**

 **"You don't know my mother," he said coldly. "She's not the kind to mope around."**

 **"Well clearly you don't know what it's like to love someone the way a mother loves her children," she shot back. "No matter how strong, if she loves you, she'll be dying to hear from you."**

 **Her assured tone made him angry.**

 **"My mother didn't care enough to stop my father from sending me away to a foreign country when I was just a boy!"**

 **"They must have had their reasons-!"**

 **"Yes, they did, and it was to prepare me for the life I ran away from!"**

 **"But-!"**

 **"Just drop it, okay?!" he shouted, clutching the cilantro tightly in his fist. "I know I'm being selfish! I know that!"**

 **"If you know that, then call your family!"**

 _ **"I can't!**_ **You don't understand, Nicole!"**

 **"I understand enough to know you're being stubborn and that you're running away! You're not** ** _like_** **me, Viktor! You have a family that's probably searching for you even now!"**

 **"I'm a failure, a disappointment! They'll kill me if I go back!"**

 **"Don't be so dramat-!"**

 **"Mama..."**

 **They both turned to see Lucía standing in the doorway, her arms around Makkachin's neck. Her eyes were wide and frightened; Viktor immediately felt a surge of guilt for having alarmed her.**

 **"Why are you fighting?" she asked, her voice trembling.**

 **"Oh, Luci, we weren't-"**

 **"It was just a disagreement,** ** _mija,"_** **Nicole said, kneeling on the ground for Lucía to hug her. "We're not fighting, okay?"**

 **"Good. Family doesn't fight," Lucía said into her mother's shoulder stubbornly. Viktor had to grab onto the counter to steady himself.**

 **"You... you think I'm family, Luci?" he asked, his voice strained.**

 **Both Nicole and Luci turned to look at him with offended expressions.**

 **"You idiot, of course you're family!" Nicole cried angrily. "Why do you think I'm so worried about you, you big- OOF!"**

 **He didn't think twice about throwing himself at them and crying disgustingly into Nicole's shoulder. He hadn't realized just how much he relied on her and her daughter to keep him aloft after he'd been kicked out of his uncle's house. It wasn't just having a place to sleep, or food to eat, or a job to keep him busy. It was the safe, warm feeling of being accepted, of being loved and wanted, no matter how much of a coward he was.**

 **"I don't want to leave this place," he cried as both Nicole and Lucía stroked his hair. "I wish I could just stay here forever and marry you or something."**

 **Nicole gave a derisive snort. "Oh please, I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth," she scolded. "You're like my brother, or like an overgrown son." She gave him a harsh pat on the back. "That's why I know your parents want to know where you are."**

 **"But... I'm scared," he muttered pathetically, clinging to her blouse. "What if they don't want me anymore?"**

 **She sighed.**

 **"If that's true, you'll always be welcome here,** ** _mijo._** **Lucía and I will always be your family, even if your blood relatives throw you away. So come on, grow a pair, honey. At least try to get in touch."**

 **"... Okay... I'll... I'll try."**

 **"It doesn't have to be today," she said reluctantly. "Just... promise me you'll do it eventually."**

 **"I promise," he said, feeling more like a child than he had in years.**

* * *

"Drinks all around!" Petya said as soon as the waitress came to get their order.

"No, we shouldn't all be drinking-" Roma began, but he was cut off by Mari.

"Oh shut up, _rosuke,_ it's our last night in Shanghai, we might as well enjoy it," she said enthusiastically.

"We still need to get back to the hotel," he muttered, but no one was paying attention. Especially not Viktor.

He was still worrying about the plan Mari and Yuuri had come up with, and as much as he wanted to believe it would work, it was hard not to think of all the things that could go wrong. When the first round of drinks arrived, he barely touched his flask at all.

"Viktor Mikhailovich, don't be such a stick in the mud!" Petya said as he and Antona clinked glasses together. "Join us! Even _Papa_ is drinking tonight!"

Sure enough, Yuuri was deep in conversation with his sister, both of them drinking casually as they spoke in rapid Japanese that was too fast for Viktor to follow. For some reason, not being able to understand what they were talking about made him uneasy.

 _What, is it something they don't want me to hear?_ he thought to himself resentfully as he took a drink.

"Hey, Roma, how did your son do in the free skate?" Alyosha asked suddenly. Roma seemed to sit up straighter, a proud grin on his eternally young features.

"First place, of course!" he said enthusiastically. "He'll do great at Skate America, just watch!"

"Damn, you think he'll make it to the Grand Prix in his first year?" Petya asked as he finished off his first flask. He already looked pink in the face.

"I'd bet money on it," Roma said as he reached for his own drink, his initial reservations forgotten.

"Pretty sure you already did," Alyosha chuckled.

"Hmph, nothing wrong with being proud in your kid."

"I think it starts being wrong when you drag money into it," Pyotr said.

Viktor meant to say something in response when something touched him beneath the table and he almost dropped his drink down his front. Yuuri was still speaking to Mari, but his hand had wandered over to Viktor's thigh, his fingers lightly running back and forth.

 _Fuck,_ he thought, his face turning red as he busied himself with another sip from his flask, trying hard not to concentrate on the sensations on his leg.

He lost track of time, and he quickly lost track of how many drinks he'd had.

At some point, Antosha had pushed Petya to the ground and begun a bizarre wrestling match that looked somehow erotic and violent at the same time. They were both far too drunk to say anything coherent at this point, though the occasional swear word was made clear whenever one of them shoved an elbow or knee somewhere particularly painful. Roma had fallen face forward onto the table, snoring loudly, and Alyosha was slumped over on his back, reciting something that sounded like binary code or perhaps just plain gibberish. Mari was still drinking, her face red and her eyes glazed over, and Yuuri had abandoned all pretext; he was fondling Viktor shamelessly in public, enjoying his discomfort openly.

"Yuu-Yuuri, not here," Viktor moaned slightly as Yuuri grabbed his ass and licked the nape of his neck. Vitya was far too drunk to push him away, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. A vague thread of reason told him that they would likely be thrown out of the restaurant if Yuuri went any further, but it was muddled and quickly forgotten as Yuuri bit down on his shoulder.

"I like hearing your voice like this," Yuuri murmured against his skin. "You should call my name louder."

"S-stop, this is- _ah!"_ He shivered as Yuuri grabbed his erection through his slacks none too gently.

"You want me to stop?" Yuuri slurred, clearly drunk.

"No, but... not here, Yuuri," Viktor said, gathering a bit of his senses as he took Yuuri by the wrists and pulled him away. Yuuri blinked, confused, then nodded. His expression became strange, almost resigned.

"Okay... I'll be good... Nikita," he muttered as he slumped forward into Viktor's arms, fast asleep.

If someone had thrown cold water over him at that exact moment, Viktor wouldn't have noticed. His blood seemed to have stopped in his veins, and he had to force himself to breathe and hold on to Yuuri to keep himself grounded in the present.

* * *

 **Yuuri hurried down the garden path after Nikita, trying to catch up to his longer strides. It was raining, but Yuuri hardly seemed to notice. All he cared about was finding Nikita, though what he would do when he did was less clear to him.**

 **Something instinctual was spurring him on, a sense of kinship, or maybe more; Yuuri was afraid to sort out those particular impulses, was afraid to admit to himself that some of his perverse fantasies when he locked himself away in the bathroom were focused on the specific moments when Nikita was covered in blood, his blue eyes glinting with satisfaction and pleasure as he worked. He didn't want to think about them, and he didn't want to act on them; he wasn't really sure** ** _what_** **he wanted.**

 **"Nikita! Wait!" he cried as his mentor reached the gate. Nikita paused but didn't turn around to look at him.**

 **"Go back inside, Yuratchka," he said firmly. "You'll catch cold out here."**

 **"I want to go with you!" he shouted.**

 **"No," Nikita said, pushing the gate open. "This isn't part of your training."**

 **"I... I don't care! If you're not here... then I don't want to stay!"**

 **Nikita hesitated, then sighed. He turned to look back at Yuuri, his expression blank.**

 **"Fine, hurry up then," he said, holding the gate open for him. Yuuri hurried through before he changed his mind and made straight for Nikita's car.**

 **"Where are we going?" Yuuri asked when they were both seated. Nikita shook his head.**

 **"I don't know. There's nowhere in particular I had in mind," he said, leaving the keys in the ignition. He didn't bother to say anything else, and the silence began to eat away at Yuuri's nerves. His thoughts were muddled and confused, and he didn't know what to say after the scene in the dining room.**

 **"Ni... Nikita..." he finally managed to say.**

 **"What is it?" The older man didn't turn or make any movement, his eyes staring past the windshield blankly.**

 **Yuuri stared down at his hands in his lap, afraid.**

 **"Do... is it true? That you don't... that you don't want to teach me anymore?"**

 **Nikita groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.**

 **"I don't know," he admitted. "When it was for Viktor Mikhailovich, I could at least say it was for his sake... but now it might be best for you to find a different teacher."**

 **"No!" Yuuri said, taking Nikita's arm. "I don't** ** _want_** **another teacher! You're the only... the only one who understands, Nikita!" he pleaded, gripping Nikita's sleeve tightly. "No one else knows what it's like to be ugly and dirty like me... Only you! Please, you can't leave me alone...!"**

 **Nikita shook him off suddenly, almost violently, and Yuuri's heart broke at the rejection.**

 **"Please don't!" he cried, choking back sobs. "Why are you pulling away?! Why won't you touch me anymore?! Am I so disgusting now that even you can't look at me?!"**

 **The** ** _sovietnik_** **bit his lip and covered his face with his hand.**

 **"Stop it, Yuuri. Right now," he ordered coldly. But Yuuri was too upset to obey.**

 **"Answer me, Nikita!" he begged, tears blurring his view. "You said I was twisted and dirty, but you're the only one who said that it was okay! You said if it was for Vitya's sake, then even someone as disgusting as me could be useful! Was it a lie?!"**

 _ **"Yuuri!"**_ **Nikita warned sharply, his eyes flashing dangerously.**

 **"You said... you said I was b...beautiful," he sobbed. "You were the only one...! I-!"**

 **A heavy slap knocked the breath from his lungs. His cheek burned from the force of Nikita's palm, his fingers shaking as he reached up to touch it.**

 **"I told you to stop," Nikita hissed, grabbing Yuuri's wrist forcefully and yanking him forward. "You have no fucking idea what you're doing, you stupid boy!"**

 **Yuuri whimpered, suddenly afraid. He'd never been struck by Nikita before, nor had he ever seen him this furious, but that wasn't what sent a shock of pure terror down his spine.**

 **"L-Let go," he said, his heart in his mouth. Nikita didn't seem to be able to hear him.**

 **"You don't know** ** _anything!"_** **he shouted. "Do you have any idea what it's like, teaching you?! It's like watching myself when I was a boy, and I don't know if I should save you while I still can or let you follow in my footsteps like the obedient little dog you are!** ** _Do you have any idea how hard it is?!"_**

 **"Y-You're hurting me!"**

 **"Shut up!" Nikita growled, tightening his grip. "You want to know why I don't want to teach you?! Fine!** ** _You're filthy! You're sick, and ugly, and you bring out demons in the rest of us! Do you know how hard I've worked to keep them at bay?! Can you even begin to understand, Yuratchka?!"_**

 **Yuuri tried to pull away, panic beating in every pulse of his heart. He was frantic to get away; he had a vague feeling of danger, an instinctual need to run, though he couldn't bring himself to put a name to it. He didn't** ** _want_** **to.**

 **"Please, stop!" he cried, almost dislocating his thumb with the sheer desperation to flee.**

 **"I tried so hard to stop it from coming to this," Nikita hissed, digging his nails into Yuuri's flesh. "But you, you and your stupid, eager eyes, you and your ugly, sinful body... You're a** ** _monster_** **, Yuratchka.** ** _A demon_** **. You drive us all to hell."**

 **The look was back, that unnerving, strange look he'd seen so many times in the past few years that was Nikita's alone, and which set his eyes apart from the ones Yuuri had loved so much as a child. It was burning and conflicted,** ** _wrong._** **Feral.**

 _ **Hunger,**_ **Yuuri** **realized, ice crawling through his veins.**

 _ **"N-NO!"**_ **he screamed, kicking and trying to free himself. This wasn't what he'd wanted, he realized that now. The longing he'd felt was for a different side of Nikita, for the part of his mentor that genuinely cared about him and didn't think he was deplorable or sick. He wanted that affection, the one that came with understanding and acceptance.**

 **He wanted those blue eyes, but he wanted the ones that belonged to** ** _Viktor_** **, a version of his older brother that wasn't repulsed by the twisted creature Yuuri had become.**

 **"This is your fault!" Nikita shouted, clamping his hand over Yuuri's mouth. He was too strong for Yuuri to fight off, even with all his defense training. He wasn't able to prevent Nikita from ripping off his clothes, or from pinning him down and forcing himself on him. It hurt far more than it had as a child; Nikita was much bigger than a twelve year old boy, and Yuuri was still small for his age, still too weak, still too helpless.**

 **He tried to fight back but he could feel himself losing his strength with every savage thrust, unable to do anything but scream and cry into Nikita's hand as he was torn apart, body and soul.**

 _ **Vitya, Vitya, please, please come back! Help me, please!**_ **he prayed, tasting blood in his mouth as he bit down on his own tongue from the sheer pain of it all. But even when Nikita was finished, and even when Yuuri vaguely heard him crying and apologizing, begging for forgiveness for his weakness, even as Yuuri's vision began to flicker as he fell unconscious, he never got an answer from Viktor, God, or anyone else.**

* * *

 **Notes:**

Happy belated Valentine's Day! Or not. I'm a messed up person. oTL

I wrote a (much, much happier) side story for this fic last week called "Just One More" based on a request from one of my patrons, if you're interested. You can find it in my works.

I've also decided to break the upcoming physical release for this fic into two volumes. Each one will contain half of the story, expanded and edited, and will include extras such as profiles, exclusive side stories, illustrations, etc. I'll post the details on volume 1 when I reach the point in the story where the break will be.

Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying this story. Please drop me a comment or contact me on Twitter (Okaeri_Kairi) or Tumblr (limitofquestions and kairidrawsstuff)! I love hearing from you!

 **Translation Notes:**

" _Ya lyublyu tebya":_ Russian for "I love you."

 _"No seas mentiroso":_ Spanish for "Don't be a liar/Don't lie"

 _"Ahi esta mi nena":_ Spanish for "There's my girl."


	13. Reflections

The warm buzz of the alcohol seemed to have vanished suddenly, leaving Viktor feeling dizzy and sick to his stomach. His heart was pounding much too fast, and he couldn't catch his breath no matter how hard he tried to calm down.

No one else seemed to notice that he was unnaturally pale as they called a pair of taxis and headed back to the hotel, Yuuri fast asleep on his shoulder with Viktor's hand clasped possessively around his waist in the back seat.

 _Breathe. It was an accident; he was drunk, confused. This isn't the first time it's happened._

He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the taxi's radio and trying to force himself to slow his breathing. It wasn't the first time, that was true. Nikita was such an overwhelming presence in Yuuri's life that Viktor wasn't sure he would ever fully vanish; Viktor's predecessor had carved himself deep into Yuuri's heart with a jagged knife, one agonizing wound at a time.

 _None of this is new, Vitya. You've known this for years. You know how damaged Yuuri is, and you've loved him just as much regardless._

But it still hurt after all this time, hearing Yuuri confuse him with the man who had nearly broken him.

 _No,_ he realized, staring at the gold band on his own finger, his hand clenched into a fist. _It hurts more now than it ever did before._

It wasn't the first time Yuuri had confused him for Nikita, but it _was_ the first time he'd done so in over two years. Even when half asleep, or when in the throes of a panic attack, he'd only ever called out Viktor's name, and Vitya had taken that as a sign of progress, of healing. He wasn't naive enough to think he'd ever truly make Yuuri forget the past, but he had hope that perhaps, over time, he might help him break free of its chains.

Now he was less sure.

 _Leave us alone, you bastard!_ he thought frantically, pulling Yuuri into a tight, desperate embrace. _I won't let you come back, I won't let you touch Yuuri ever again! I'll protect him from you no matter what it takes, no matter how many times I have to erase you from his heart. There is no place for you here!_

Anger and hatred coursed through his veins, a murderous impulse that had him clenching his teeth so hard that his jaw hurt. He couldn't tell if it was directed at Nikita, at Yuuri, or at himself. Perhaps it was all three.

Al he knew was that Yuuri was _his._ He was his brother, his master, his lover, his husband and his lifeline. Viktor would do anything to protect him, anything to ease his pain.

Anything to atone. No matter the cost.

* * *

 **"He's lost a fair amount of blood. He'll need to be on the drip for at least a couple of hours."**

 **"I see..."**

 **"This was a lot more serious than the last time, Nika. A grown man, from the looks of it. You sure you don't want me to run a DNA test? You can find the perpetrator based on the traces of semen-"**

 **"No. I already know who it was. I'll take care of it."**

 **"If you're certain..."**

 **"Just treat his wounds, Fyodor. I have to have him back before dawn."**

 **The voices were familiar but they echoed oddly in Yuuri's ears, as if he were hearing them from far away. His thoughts were slow and undefined, taking an eternity to process who they belonged to, but when he tried to open his eyes to see, he found that his body wasn't responding to his impulses at all.**

 _ **Where... am I?**_ **he thought vaguely. He felt heavy and sluggish somehow, like there was something thick and warm blanketed over his body, though he couldn't quite feel his own limbs.**

 **"Poor kid," one of the voices said, sounding closer than it had before. "He seems to attract the worst in people... Or maybe it's just that he's different."**

 **The other voice didn't reply.**

 **"I can't imagine the kind of pain he's been through." The speaker paused. "You know these scars on his shoulders? They're serious third degree burns. They're all over his back too. This boy was burned alive. And from the looks of them, at a very young age."**

 **"I know," the second person said. Yuuri thought their voice sounded somewhat strained.**

 **"I can't imagine anyone looking at these and being cruel enough to hurt a child like this, even if he is foreign. Human beings are fucking disgusting."**

 **"...And yet you still treat them."**

 **"It's my job," the voice responded simply. "And... I'd like to believe that there are good people in the world, even if I don't see many of them myself."**

 **There was a long, strained silence.**

 **"There's tea upstairs," the voice said a few minutes later.**

 **"Thanks, but I'll stay here. I'll keep an eye on him."**

 **"Suit yourself. There's another patient waiting for me so call if anything happens."**

 **"Yeah..."**

 **Yuuri thought he heard the clacking of shoes on linoleum and the sound of a door closing. There was a strange, scratchy sound and a moment later a long, drawn out sigh close by.**

 **"There's no excuse for this," a voice muttered, thick with remorse. "I tried so hard to control myself, but Fyodor's right. Human beings truly are disgusting creatures."**

 _ **Nikita,**_ **Yuuri realized slowly. Even if he couldn't see him, hearing his mentor's voice was reassuring. But there was also something niggling in the back of his mind, something that sent a faint feeling of unease through Yuuri's thoughts, though he wasn't able to focus on it.**

 **"It's sickening," Nikita said in a harsh whisper. "I always promised myself I'd never be like them. I swore it... I hated them, and everyone like them... so why? Why did you have to come to Russia, Yuuri? Why did you have to exist?"**

 **His voice was strangled, pained, and though he was addressing Yuuri, it didn't seem like he was actually speaking to him. The next words were somewhat muffled, as if Nikita were speaking into his hands.**

 **"You were just like me, you were like my brother, my son... so why...? Why do you have to be so beautiful, so fragile, so fucking trusting?! If only you weren't here, if only you didn't make me feel so confused...!"**

 **Yuuri couldn't make sense of what he was hearing, he couldn't understand what Nikita was talking about. He was frightened, but he didn't know why, and some part of him, the part of him he couldn't quite grasp, was desperate not to find out.**

 _ **Stop, don't say anymore... please!**_

 **"You know what the worst part is?** ** _I still fucking want you._** **Even looking at you like this, defenseless and broken, you're still tormenting me, I still have to force myself not to touch you," Nikita moaned pitifully. "I'm the worst kind of trash, and I don't think I can control myself anymore. I'm sorry, Yuuri, I'm so fucking sorry. I wish I could have saved you, I really truly do. I just... forgive me, please... "**

 **And then Yuuri remembered, the memories crashing over him like thunder, drowning him in a sea of fear and pain that seemed to cut into his heart.**

 **His lungs weren't working, his blood pounding much too fast. There was a piercing, high pitched sound, but it wasn't until he heard Nikita and Fyodor shouting that he realized it was the sound of a heart monitor, shrill and urgent.**

 **"** ** _Maloi, maloi! Can you hear me?! Listen to me! You have to breathe!"_**

 _ **"What's wrong with him?!"**_

 _ **"I don't know, but he's not breathing and he's going into severe tachycardia!"**_

 _ **"What the fuck does that mean?!"**_

 _ **"It means he's going to die if I don't intubate him, give me the kit on the counter, hurry!"**_

 **He wanted to scream, but he couldn't move, he couldn't do anything. His lungs were burning, aching, his head pounding like so many hammers battering against his skull.**

 _ **Don't look at me, don't look at me! DON'T TOUCH ME!**_ **he thought wildly as his thoughts faded painfully. He couldn't say who he was speaking to, if it was to the doctor, to Nikita as he covered his mouth, or to the boys who had dirtied him so long ago.**

* * *

Yuuri woke up suddenly and with a start, an awful taste in his mouth. He lay in Viktor's arms silently, staring up at the ceiling of their hotel room as his breath evened out and he began to calm down.

 _It was a dream. Just a dream..._ he repeated to himself, a mantra to ward off the terrible memories. He managed to keep the building panic under control by thinking about the headache building just behind his eyes and the fact that his mouth was unnaturally dry.

 _I need a drink._

He shifted in Viktor's embrace in order to get up.

"Yuuri...?"

It was a drowsy question, far less alert than usual.

"Bathroom," he said simply, and Vitya nodded, his eyes still closed.

"Kay..." he murmured, a light snore escaping him a second later. Yuuri reached out to brush Viktor's hair aside but stopped at the last moment, his heart aching.

 _Don't dirty him more than you already have,_ he reminded himself as he pulled away and got up.

There was a glass waiting on the sink; Viktor had likely used it when they'd returned to the hotel room. Yuuri filled it up and took a deep drink, trying to wash the unpleasant taste on his tongue away. He rarely drank this much while on the job, but it had been hard to resist after all the stress of the last few days. His memories of the night before were mostly gone, though he didn't think he'd done too much out of the ordinary.

 _I think I fell asleep,_ he thought as he washed his face. He paused, catching his reflection in the mirror. There were deep circles under his eyes and he looked paler than usual. The bites Viktor had left in the morning were stark against his neck and shoulders, a pattern of red and purple stars that never seemed to fully fade these days. Yuuri touched one on his collarbone gently, caressing it with his fingertips.

 _"These are my proof, Yura,_ " Viktor had once said, long ago. _"I'll leave them as often as you need me to, to remind you that you are loved."_

Yuuri smiled slightly, lost in thought. No one had ever marked him the way Viktor had. They'd left bruises, scratches, burns, and pain. They'd imprinted themselves on his body and on his soul through force, through hate and vicious lust. Only Vitya had ever taken the time to appreciate him, to treat him like a lover, like someone deserving of gentleness and pleasure.

 _Even if it's a lie, it's a beautiful lie,_ he thought, pressing against the bite mark slightly with his thumb. It hurt a little, but Yuuri relished it. As long as he was marked, he could at least pretend that he was still human.

 _"You're pathetic, Yuratchka,"_ a familiar voice in his head spoke suddenly. _"When will you stop clinging to childish promises and lies?"_

 _Nikita..._

 _"Haven't you learned by now? Viktor Mikhailovich is only ever at your side when it suits him. You really think he's changed? You think you've changed?"_

 _Shut up, you don't know anything!_

 _"I know more than Viktor does. I know about your sick fantasies, about the way you still picture me when you're working, about the fact that sometimes it's hard for you to tell us apart. I know you fear and crave intimacy, I know why you treat Viktor so roughly during sex, why you have to constantly remind him you're in control. I know you hate yourself for deriving pleasure from it, and I know you see me in yourself every time you fuck him,"_ Nikita recited calmly. Yuuri couldn't tear his eyes away from his own reflection; he felt like the moment he did, Nikita would be there, clamping a large, rough hand over his mouth like he had so many times before.

 _You're not real, you're not here!_ he thought desperately, his fingers clinging to the sink with desperate force. _Leave me alone!_

 _"Of course I'm real, Yuuri. Far more real than anything that symbol on your finger pretends to mean."_

Vitya must have been very drunk; he would never have slept through the sound of Yuuri retching and sobbing to himself in the bathroom otherwise.

* * *

 **Winter came early that year, covering the northeastern United States with a blanket of snow a full month earlier than usual. The cold was never an issue with Viktor, who was used to far more severe weather, but it always seemed to take Nicole by surprise.**

 **"Goddammit!" she cried when she returned home in the morning one day in October, stomping her feet in the hallway for warmth. "Who said it was okay to turn us all into popsicles?!"**

 **"It's not** ** _that_** **cold," Vitya laughed, taking her bag and jacket in exchange for a large woolen sweater. "This is fall weather in Russia, at worst."**

 **"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked as she pulled the sweater over her head, her voice momentarily muffled. "The lake is frozen!"**

 **"Water freezes in the winter," he said, grinning mischievously. "I thought you said you graduated high school?"**

 **Her response was her slipper in his face.**

 **"Don't be a smartass," she huffed, tossing her dark hair back.**

 **"I don't know why you're complaining," he chuckled as he hung the jacket on the rack. "Didn't you say you grew up in New York?"**

 **"I did, but I spent a lot of winters in Puerto Rico," she explained as she made her way to the kitchen and began to make Lucía's breakfast. "We always spent the Christmas holidays over there with family... before I had Lucía, anyway."**

 **"What's Puerto Rico like?"**

 **"Nothing like New York," she said vaguely. "Also, much warmer. Snow is a myth over there."**

 **"Hm," he replied carelessly, leaning on the counter and watching her at work. Nicole had a fascinating sort of grace that Viktor never got tired of observing; it wasn't the charm a prostitute put on for customers, though it was still a bit sensual. It was like watching a dance as she moved around the kitchen, gathering pots and pans.**

 **"Don't just stand there staring,** ** _mijo_** **," she scolded. "Go wake Lucía."**

 **"Oh, right!" he said, pushing himself up. He whistled for Makkachin.**

 **"C'mon, we gotta get Luci," he said as the poodle trotted up to him excitedly. Viktor nearly forgot to tie the letter he'd written onto Makkachin's collar and had to double back to the living room before he stood in front of Lucía and Nicole's bedroom.**

 **"Luci, time to wake up!" he said cheerfully, knocking three times before opening the door. As always, Makkachin bounded in immediately, leaping on the girl's bed without restraint.**

 **"Ugh!" she groaned as Vitya's dog began to lick her face. "Makkachin, no, I'm trying to sleep!"**

 **"Not anymore you're not," Viktor said, pulling the curtain open to let in the morning sun.**

 **"Nooo! I don't wanna go to school!" she cried, covering her face with her hands and turning away from the light.**

 **Viktor chuckled.**

 **"You totally forgot, didn't you? There's no school today, Luci."**

 **"...There isn't?" she asked suspiciously, peeking through her fingers.**

 **"Nope. Just a very cheeky nine year old girl who's going to miss her birthday presents unless she gets out of bed."**

 **Luci immediately sat up, her black hair cascading over her face messily.**

 **"Presents?!" she asked eagerly, her eyes shining greedily.**

 **"Yup, Makkachin is trying to give you the first one, look," he smiled as Makkachin nosed at Lucia's cheek.**

 **"Aww, thank you Makkachin," she giggled, giving the dog a hug. "You can have a kiss too," she said, nosing into his soft fur and pressing several kisses on onto his fluffy ears.**

 **"He's got mine too," Viktor said, pointing at the note as he took a seat at Lucía's bedside. He watched her take the letter and open it, reading it slowly.**

 **"Really?! Ice skating?!" she shouted when she was through. Viktor winked at her.**

 **"Yup, I'll teach you myself! All Russians worth their salt know how to skate," he said seriously.**

 **"But I'm not Russian," she said, puzzled.**

 **"No, but you're my family, which makes you as good as one," he replied, beaming. She blinked at him for a moment before tossing the blankets aside and hugging him fiercely, her thin arms around his neck.**

 **"You're the best, Viktor," she said. "I love you more than** ** _aaaaanything_** **!"**

 **He hugged her back tightly.**

 **"I love you too, Luci. Happy birthday."**

 **She pulled away suddenly, a serious look on her face.**

 **"But how are we supposed to go ice skating when I don't have skates?" she asked.**

 **"Who said you didn't?" Nicole answered for him. They turned to see her leaning against the doorway with a large, wrapped box in her arms. "Though if you really love Viktor more than me, your own mother, I guess I'll just have to find someone else to give this present to..." she said, feigning a dramatic sigh.**

 ** _"No!"_** **Lucía cried. "I love you both the same!"**

 **"Oh really?" Nicole asked, one eyebrow raised. There was a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.**

 _ **"¡Si!"**_

 **Her mother laughed. "Okay, fair enough. Here you go,** ** _mija. Feliz cumpleaños."_** **She leaned in to kiss Lucia's forehead and handed over the package. Lucía tore it open immediately.**

 **"Ohhh, they're so pretty!" she said as she pulled out the skates Viktor and Nicole had saved up to buy for her. They were pure white and lined with fake fur. "Thank you, thank you!"**

 **"You're welcome," Nicole said, one hand on Viktor's shoulder. "But if you want to try them out today, you're going to have to get dressed and eat breakfast, or we're not going out today," she warned.**

 **Luci nodded. "Viktor, get out," she ordered, and he laughed. "Right, right. Try not to take all day, birthday girl," he teased as he and Nicole left the room and he closed the door behind her.**

* * *

Yuuri slept very little once he'd gotten himself together enough to return to bed. He longed to wake Viktor and take comfort in his touch, but the sound of Nikita's voice in his head stayed his hand. Instead, he gently pushed his husband away, placing a pillow between them so as to avoid physical contact. He lay awake for hours, trying not to think, until finally the alarm went off and he got up to get ready for their flight.

He was almost completely dressed when Viktor finally began to stir, one arm draped over the pillow Yuuri had left there.

"Time to go?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"We're leaving in twenty minutes," Yuuri replied, adjusting his tie. Viktor sat up suddenly, wincing.

"Ow..." he muttered to himself, clutching his head. "Drank too much..."

To Yuuri's surprise, he didn't have to force a distance between them; Viktor got dressed and cleaned up without once hugging or otherwise touching Yuuri. He didn't even speak to him, except to ask him where his things were as he packed. At first, he was relieved, but as the morning wore on and they found themselves in the back of a taxi headed for the airport, Yuuri began to feel anxious.

 _Is he being considerate? Did he hear me last night, perhaps?_ he thought, his palms sweating slightly. That seemed unlikely; Viktor's first reaction to seeing or hearing Yuuri break down was always to hold him close and murmur reassurances into his ear. It wasn't like him to pretend he hadn't noticed, which meant he probably _hadn't_ noticed in the first place.

 _But then... why is he being so distant?_ Yuuri asked himself, glancing nervously at Viktor. His _sovietnik_ was leaning against the window, his cheek pressed to his fist and staring out blankly as they drove. His right hand, the hand with his ring, was lying limply on the seat between them. Yuuri had an overwhelming urge to take it, to prove he was just imagining things, but he was also hesitant, Nikita's voice still echoing in his ears.

 _No, Nikita is wrong,_ he told himself firmly, biting the inside of his lip. _Vitya won't leave me. He won't do that. Even if everything he's ever said is a lie, even if he's only at my side because I stole his freedom... he won't leave. He would never... Never again._

He steeled himself and reached out, pressing his fingers over Viktor's lightly. For one moment, he breathed a sigh of relief, those familiar knuckles pressed to his palm.

But then Viktor pulled away, his eyes still focused out the window, and Yuuri could barely control the sudden trembling in his hands.

* * *

 **Lucía kicked her feet with excitement as she sat on Viktor's shoulders, her chin lazily pressed to the top of his head.**

 **"Are we there yet?!" she asked for the hundredth time since they'd stepped out of the apartment. Nicole clicked her tongue.**

 **"Does it look like we're there?" she asked, walking at Vitya's side in her most comfortable winter outfit. She was carrying the new skates, as well as her own battered pair and the ones Viktor had rented for himself the night before. "You don't have to carry her, Viktor," she said worriedly, glancing up at him. "You'll hurt your back."**

 **"She doesn't weigh anything," he assured her, smiling. "Besides, I'm very fit; I did a lot of... sports... when I still lived with my uncle. Don't worry."**

 **"If you say so..." she said, frowning slightly. "Speaking of your uncle..."**

 **"I know, I promise I'll speak to him soon," he said softly, avoiding her sharp brown eyes. "I'd like to finish saving up enough money to go back to Russia on my own terms first."**

 **"You'll come back, won't you?" Luci asked fearfully. He clapped her knee.**

 **"Of course. You two are my home now," he said. "I know Mother and Father will want me to come back to the family business, but I'm sure I can convince them to forget about me. They have a second heir, anyway," he added, sounding far more reassured than he actually felt.**

 **"You have such strange ways of speaking about your family," Nicole noted. "You normally don't hear a term like 'heir' thrown around when it comes to these sorts of things. Unless you're secretly the son of some rich businessman," she teased.**

 **The remark was playful, but it was far too close to comfort for Viktor's liking.**

 **"It's just my Russian sneaking up on my English," he lied smoothly. "That's just what we call it when you're supposed to go into a family-owned business."**

 **"Well, I'm sure your parents will be angry that you didn't contact them, but as long as you let them know you're alive, you can make your own decisions," Nicole said warmly. "If you really want to stay, we will always have our door open for you."**

 **"Mm, thank you," he said, avoiding her eyes. He didn't want to cry on Luci's birthday.**

 **"Look! The lake!" the little girl suddenly cried, smacking Vitya on the head urgently. "It's really frozen, look Viktor!"**

 **"I see it, I see it," he chuckled. Lucía's enthusiasm was contagious.**

 **"Are you going to teach me how to do jumps and stuff?!"**

 **"What, do I look like a professional skater to you or something?!"**

 **"Aww, you can't do it...?"**

 **"Who do you think I am, Lucía Emilia Martínez?!" he asked, turning to look back at her and using her full name like her mother did when she was angry. "Of course I can do it...! Probably..."**

 **Nicole laughed. "Which means you can't," she giggled.**

 **"Hmph, of course I can! I'm just... rusty, is all!" Vitya huffed.**

 **"Sure. But when you're in the hospital in a full-body cast, you're paying for it yourself," she said in a snide tone.**

 **"Fine, I will! I'll just have to get** ** _all_** **my friends to sign it," he shot back, barely able to contain a laugh of his own.**

 **"I wasn't aware you had any friends."**

 **"Ouch, that's cold, even for you," he said indignantly, feigning tears. "I'll have you know I am an incredibly famous and popular man, Nicole!"**

 **"Sure you are."**

 **"I am wounded, I will never recover from this cruelty," he cried dramatically.**

 **"Don't cry, Viktor, I'll sign your cast," Lucía said, patting his hair. "Mom is just jealous because you're prettier than her."**

 **"I** ** _know!"_** **he said indignantly. "Envy can make people** ** _so_** **mean..." He wasn't prepared for the handful of snow she threw at his face.**

 **"Prettier, huh?!" she said through her teeth. "We'll see about that!"**

 **All three of them were laughing so hard as they haphazardly made their way towards the lake that Viktor almost missed the sharp moment of unease as his instincts warned him he was being watched. He stopped dead on the snowy path, alert for any noise or sign of something dangerous.**

 **"Viktor?" Nicole asked, obviously concerned, her hand still holding a half-formed snowball.**

 **"Shh," he hissed sharply, looking around cautiously. There was a moment when he thought he saw a familiar face in the small crowd gathering in the park, but when he blinked, it was gone.**

 **"Viktor, you look pale, what happened?" she asked, taking his face in her hands. Lucía hung forward to check on him.**

 **"No... it's nothing," he said, shaking his head and putting on his best fake smile. "I thought I recognized someone, but I was just imagining it."**

 **"Are you sure?"**

 **"Yeah, I'm sure," he said cheerfully, pushing his fears deep down, as far as they would go.**

 _ **There's no way it was Mickey,**_ **h** **e thought as he helped Lucía tie her skate** **s.** _**This is too far out from New York proper for it to be him... and he's too young to be a**_ **shetsyorka** _**anyway...**_

 **But the sense of unease refused to fade.**

* * *

"Fuck, what's wrong with me?" Viktor murmured, staring at himself in the mirror. He'd asked to be excused while Mari used her connections to pass them through security and gone to the bathroom to clear his head a little.

It was more than just a hangover, he could tell that much. Being drunk never made him want to avoid Yuuri, much less not want to touch him. It was usually the exact opposite, in fact, but there was something burning in the pit of his stomach that made him irritable at the thought of even looking at his lover just now.

 _Is it because he called me Nikita yesterday?_ he asked himself, leaning on the long, marble counter and searching his own face for the answer. _Am I just mad because he got confused?_

He bit his lip, trying to be honest with himself as his blue eyes stared back at him coldly. For many years now, Viktor had hated those eyes, the same eyes his mother had given him. Despite the fact that Nikita was Mikhail's relative and not Katerina's, the three of them had the exact same eye color and shape, causing many people to confuse his father's former _sovietnik_ for Katerina's family. When he was small, Viktor had thought it was a fun coincidence; Nikita had always been kind to both him and Yuuri, and he'd always brought them things whenever he visited the house. He'd liked to think that Nikita was his mother's long lost brother and not just some distant cousin of his father's, though that had been a long time ago.

Now, however, he always felt like Nikita was staring back at him whenever he looked in the mirror.

"I am not Nikita," he said aloud. "I'm not a replacement, I am _not_ him." His nails dug into his palms as he watched the man in his reflection repeat the words back to him.

 _Yuuri doesn't want me because he wants Nikita. That's not what this is. There's no reason to be jealous, Vitya..._

But he was. He could feel it boiling in his blood.

"I'm _nothing_ like him!" he shouted, banging the counter hard with his fist. "I am Viktor Nikiforov, I didn't become _sovietnik_ or Yuuri's lover to fill in for that fucking bastard! I didn't marry him so I could play a part!"

There was a knot in the back of his throat, and he saw the tears roll down his nose a second later.

"I am Viktor Nikiforov," he repeated, his voice breaking. "I'm the one Yuuri needs, not you," he sobbed, pulling his hair away from his face. "I don't have to be you for him to need me... I don't need to be you to protect him from himself..."

He cried for several minutes, hating himself for his own insecurities.

 _This isn't about me,_ he reminded himself painfully. _And it's not about Nikita either. Get a grip, Viktor... everything you do is for Yuuri's sake. You're alive for Yuuri and Yuuri alone. Even if he doesn't love you, even if you're just a replacement, it doesn't matter. You've always known that._

He pressed a hand over his heart, over the precious marriage certificate he carried everywhere as a shield and as a reminder that if it was shot, he would cease to exist as well.

"Everything you do is for Yuuri," he repeated to himself as he turned the faucet on and washed his face, knowing the others would be expecting him soon.

He was just about to dry off with a handkerchief when the door opened. He looked up into the mirror and saw Yuuri's brown eyes staring at him. Both of them froze.

"So you were here," Yuuri said. His voice sounded odd, but Viktor couldn't place it.

"Mm, I did say I would be in the bathroom," he replied, trying to act normal but coming off slightly cold. He couldn't deal with this right now. It was too sudden.

"You were taking a long time."

"I think something disagreed with me yesterday," he lied, averting his eyes.

"I see."

Viktor finished wiping himself and replaced the handkerchief into his pocket.

"I'll be outside if you need me," he said, trying to escape from that sharp gaze as quickly as possible. He was halfway to the door when he felt a tug at his sleeve and his heart stopped, guilt and self-hatred baring their fangs.

"Vitya, I-"

He didn't wait for the rest; he was too wounded by what had happened the night before to think clearly, and he was afraid of hurting Yuuri by accident. He pulled away.

"Sorry, I forgot there was something I had to do," he muttered. His hand touched the handle just as a familiar click echoed behind him. He had half a second to think of where he'd heard that sound before when a terrible crack went off in his eardrums, the tiles on the wall next to his head shattered by a bullet.

"Don't you _dare_ walk away from me, Viktor!"

Vitya suddenly realized what the odd tone was in Yuuri's voice. It was the strangled, weak sound that always signaled an oncoming panic attack.

The horror he felt at his failure to recognize the signs was overwhelming.

* * *

 **Two other times in Yuuri's short life, he'd woken from sedation to realize that his world had crashed around his ears. The first was when he awoke in a Russian hospital, an IV in his arm and a mask covering his face. He felt like he'd been sleeping for an eternity, and it wasn't long after that a stranger came to see him and explained to him that he'd been in a coma for several months, and that his entire family was dead.**

 **He couldn't believe it was true, but when he saw the horrible wounds on his shoulders, he remembered everything; the fire, the men who wanted to kill him, the explosion. It was like he was trapped in a nightmare that wouldn't end and he didn't know which way to turn.**

 **The second time was after the rape, the first one, the one spurred on by the hate and cruelty of young boys. It was only after he woke up in Fyodor's clinic and Nikita spoke to him that he realized he would never be the same again. He'd been tainted and broken, and nothing would be able to wash the stain out of his soul.**

 **By the time the third one came around, Yuuri was numb. He awoke in his own bed, wearing his own clothes, alone. He was too exhausted to cry, too tired to scream. He could remember everything far too clearly, even bits of the conversation he'd heard while in the clinic.**

 _ **I want to die,**_ **he thought, and he was almost surprised at the ease with which the words came to him. It wasn't the first time he'd thought it, and it wasn't the first time he'd considered it, but now it wasn't a statement filled with pain and sorrow. He could think it without remorse, without guilt or sadness. In the past, he'd always been a little afraid, a bit hopeful that perhaps there was a reason to keep walking forward, that his parents and Viktor would surely miss him if he was gone.**

 **But now, none of that mattered. He was corrupt, he was a monster. If he could make Nikita break... Nikita, who he'd trusted beyond all else, who had helped him find a place at Vitya's side, who had taught him so much and given him a small sense of pride... If he could do that to Nikita, how much longer would it be before he tainted his father? His mother? Vitya?**

 _ **I would rather die than hurt them,**_ **he said, closing his eyes and remembering the pained cries he'd heard Nikita give as he apologized. He'd never known that Nikita was capable of tears; it hurt him to the bone to think he'd done that.**

 _ **I'm a demon. I shouldn't exist, I shouldn't be here.**_

 **A sense of urgency overtook him. He had to leave. He couldn't stay in that house any longer. He needed to get as far away from Nikita and his parents as he could, and then he would end everything before it was too late to save them.**

 **He threw the covers off the bed, ignoring the sharp pain in his lower back and in his muscles. He found his shoes and a sweater, pulling them on without thinking. It was early, no one would notice he was missing after the party from the night before. His parents always drank far too much at** ** _bratva_** **gatherings, so if he hurried, he could get it all over with before they even woke up.**

 _ **I need a gun,**_ **he realized as he hesitated just in front of his bedroom door. A knife would do too, though he wanted to do it quickly if possible. Katerina and Nikita always took the guns he practiced with to make sure he didn't hurt himself by accident, but he was sure his mother would have one hidden somewhere in the house, just in case of emergency.**

 **He pulled the door open, determined to search the parlor, and came face to face with Nikita, who was leaning against the wall opposite his room.**

 **"I was afraid you would try this," he said, sighing. Yuuri took a shaky step back, his plan forgotten as his thoughts were replaced by pure fear.**

 **"N-No," he managed to say, his entire body trembling. "I d-don't know what-"**

 **"You're dressed like you're planning to run away," Nikita said, not moving from his spot. "I'm not a fool, I know what a runaway teenager looks like." His tone was measured, blank. It only frightened Yuuri more.**

 **"Wh-why-"**

 **"Do you really want to speak in the hall, Yuratchka? Where anyone can come and hear about how disgusting you are?"**

 **Yuuri was hyperventilating, looking for something to grab ahold of. He shook his head. Nikita seemed to take that as an invitation into his room, closing the door quietly behind him and turning the key in the lock.**

 **"You don't have to be afraid," he said, almost gently as he took in Yuuri's wild expression. "I promise I won't do anything. You bled quite a lot last night, and the last thing I want is for you to die." He reached out a hand and Yuuri stumbled backward frantically, falling back onto his own bed.**

 **"N-** ** _No! Don't touch me!"_** **he cried, scrambling away from him. Nikita hesitated, a hurt look in his pretty blue eyes.**

 **"O-of course," he said, stepping back. "I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry."**

 **They stared at each other, Yuuri's heart beating furiously in his chest. Nikita said nothing, did nothing, for a long time.**

 **"You really are beautiful, Yuuri," he finally said, closing his eyes for a moment. "I don't think you understand the effect you have on people. I never met your mother, but I see where it comes from; I've seen her photograph on the mantle, and you really do look just like her. She was what people called an oriental beauty, I'm told. Small, delicate, elegant, and utterly seductive. Those are all words Mikhail has used to praise her, words even Katerina has agreed with. I didn't particularly think they suited you, though... at least, not for a long time."**

 **The mention of his biological mother caught Yuuri off guard; he'd always heard about her in those terms himself, and some small, desperate part of him was shocked to hear that someone thought he was that captivating.**

 **"But everyday I see you growing into her likeness, every day I see you working hard to make yourself useful, to overcome your taint. It's like watching an ugly chick preen itself into a swan, a fierce, noble, beautiful creature. So, so achingly beautiful, Yuratchka. I've tried for so long not to be seduced by it, but I can't do it anymore."**

 **The words washed over him like a spell, keeping him rooted in place, keeping him from listening to that little voice that was screaming for him to run. He'd never been described like this before, never been able to picture himself as anything but an ugly, broken** ** _yaposhka._**

 **"You're dangerous, Yuuri," Nikita said, taking a step closer. When Yuuri didn't react, he took another. And another. "So very dangerous. Your sins are like poison, they seep into everyone around you. You know that, don't you?"**

 **"Y-yes," Yuuri breathed, unable to look away from those bright blue eyes.**

 **"That's why you want to run away, isn't it?"**

 **He nodded, his throat tight and painful.**

 **"But if you run now, it won't undo all the damage you've already done," Nikita said, his voice soft and reassuring. He was at the foot of the bed now, looking down at him. "Everyone you've touched, everyone you've corrupted, there's no going back for us. And who knows what will happen if you're gone? Don't you think you might accidentally spark something irreversible in the mother you love so much? When she learns the truth? What about your father? What about Viktor? They'll know, if you run."**

 **Yuuri clutched at the bedsheets with all his might, willing himself to deny it, to say it wouldn't happen, but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't know if it was true or not.**

 **"T-Then what am I supposed to do?!" he asked, his voice cracked.**

 **Nikita made an odd movement, as if he were going to back off, but instead he sat on the edge of the bed, so close he could easily touch him.**

 **"You can't undo what you did, but maybe you can contain it," he said slowly. "Those of us who are already tainted... well, I doubt you can poison us any further. I'm sure you understand, don't you, Yuratchka?"**

 **Yuuri's back was pressed against the headboard, his blood thundering in his ears. Nikita reached out and took hold of Yuuri's wrists, firmly but without hurting him.**

 **"You can be good if you try, can't you, Yuuri?" he said softly, his voice lingering in the air, slithering into Yuuri's heart and lodging itself there firmly. "You'll atone, won't you?"**

 **He hardly realized when he nodded, or when he replied, his voice small and barely audible.**

 **"I'll... I'll try... I'll try to be good... Nikita..."**

 **And he was. He was always** ** _always_** **good, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he cried afterward.**

* * *

 **Viktor got off work early one night in December after a particularly bad snowstorm a few hours earlier scared off most of the usual traffic at the club.**

 **"Just go home, we've got enough manpower for the night," his boss said, waving him off.**

 **"Well, if you're sure..."**

 **"Yeah, off with you."**

 **"Is Nicole still on duty?" he asked as he pulled on his jacket.**

 **"She's got a customer, yeah. Want to leave her a message?"**

 **"Tell her I'm going home; I hate to leave Lucía alone if I don't have to."**

 **"Got it. I'll tell her when she's done."**

 **"Thanks."**

 **He wrapped his scarf around his neck and strode out into the biting cold, stifling a yawn. His nightmares had been getting worse, and he was starting to remember them now. They were mostly about the girl whose name he never knew, the one who died in front of him. He was sure they were getting more vivid the closer he got to collecting the money he needed to go home.**

 _ **A month or two more, and I'll have enough for the round trip,**_ **he thought nervously as he made his way down the street. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, wondering if he'd actually make it back alive to New York.**

 _ **I don't think mom will kill me... probably... I mean, she'll definitely shoot me, but I doubt she'd straight up murder her own son... Father... I'm less sure about.**_

 **Mikhail had never been a cruel father, or a cold man, for that matter, but he did have a temper like his brother, and sometimes it was hard to tell what he might do if it was triggered.**

 _ **The most dangerous person is actually Uncle Valya,**_ **he reasoned.** ** _He really would shoot me if I showed up, so as long as I go around him, everything will work out for the best... I think._**

 **He was startled when he looked up and he realized he was standing outside their apartment complex already. He didn't remember crossing any streets, but he must have been lucky not to have been run over.**

 **Then again, it** ** _was_** **3 in the morning.**

 **He climbed the stairs tiredly, his thoughts turning to his warm bed as he pulled out his key. He was just about to put it into the lock when he realized something was wrong; the door was closed, but there were signs of it having been forced. Some of the wood was broken near the handle, and if he looked carefully, it seemed like the jamb had been lopsided somewhat.**

 _ **Lucía,**_ **he thought immediately, his mind going blank. He didn't think about being careful or about calling the police; he threw the door open frantically.**

 **"Luci?!" he shouted, flicking the lights on. The living room was empty, no signs of a struggle. He strained his ears and was about to pull the phone from his pocket when he heard the sound of a gun's safety being clicked off.**

 **"Hands out of your pockets, Viktor Mikhailovich."**

 **He froze, his heart in his mouth.**

 _ **Oh god. They found me.**_

 **He swallowed hard, putting his hands up and turning his head slightly to see a familiar face frowning at him from the hallway.**

 **"Roberto," he said, his heart sinking.**

 **Valentino's** ** _sovietnik_** **grimaced. He was one of the lesser sons of the Crispino family, an ally of the Nikiforovs. Viktor had known him since he first arrived in New York, a serious man who always put family first, blood related or not. He often brought his children, a pair of twins, to Valya's house to play with him and Chris when they were young. Like them, he was olive-skinned and had warm, dark eyes, but Viktor had seen him at work, and he knew he could be just as deadly and cold as he was gentle.**

 **"I don't want to have to shoot you, Viktor," he said in his steady cadence. "I'm only here to take you back."**

 **"How'd you find me?" Vitya asked, trying to keep calm. The longer he continued to talk, the more likely it was that he'd find out what they'd done to Lucía.**

 **"Mickey spotted you in the area a couple of months ago," Roberto replied briskly.**

 **"He's a** ** _shetsyorka_** **already?"**

 **"No. It was an accident. He was visiting a friend and happened to see you. We've been keeping an eye on this area ever since."**

 **"I see... I suppose you're not alone then."**

 **"Of course not. But that's irrelevant. Hurry up and gather your things."**

 **"And if I don't want to go?" he asked, sounding so brave he almost believed it himself.**

 **"I'll shoot your kneecap off and drag you. Your parents want you back alive, but I was told to use whatever force was necessary."**

 **"My parents?" he asked, genuinely surprised. "I thought you were here under my Uncle's orders."**

 **"Yes, but Valentino would have been glad not to see your face again, to be honest," Roberto said, his mouth twitching slightly. "He was very upset when you left."**

 **"I remember," Vitya replied dryly.**

 **"Katya Ivanovna personally ordered we find you at all costs. We've been searching for over a year. I never expected you to take up with a prostitute in a place like this."**

 **"Then you don't know anything about me," he said, angry at the insinuation. "I didn't take up with anyone."**

 **"Whatever you call it," Roberto sighed, his gun still trained on Viktor. "Sleeping with, living with, it doesn't matter."**

 **"I've never touched Nicole," he growled. It made him angrier than it should; Nicole was such a motherly, protective presence to him that it upset him terribly that anyone would think they were involved.**

 **"It doesn't matter. Quit wasting time."**

 **"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me where Luci is."**

 **"Luci?"**

 **"** ** _Lucía,_** **" he hissed. "Where is she?"**

 **Roberto stared at him for a moment, mulling something over. He put two fingers to his mouth and whistled; there was the sound of a door opening in the hall and another man came down the hall with Lucía in his grasp, a gun pressed to her temple.**

 _ **"Viktor!"**_ **she cried when she saw him. Her hands had been tied, her cheek bruised. Vitya felt a pure surge of fury in his veins.**

 **"Let her go!" he shouted. "She's only a child, what the fuck is wrong with you?!"**

 **"We won't hurt her," Roberto said firmly. "Not if you cooperate."**

 **"Won't hurt her?!** ** _Then what the hell is that bruise on her face?!"_**

 **"She resisted," Roberto's underling explained. "It was necessary to get her to behave." Luci's brown eyes were wide with terror, pleading for Viktor to help her.**

 **"You** ** _bastard,_** **" he spat at Roberto. "You have a daughter too! Do you hit Sala around too, if she doesn't behave?!"**

 **The** ** _sovietnik's_** **eyes burned dangerously.**

 **"You were warned," he said coldly. He pointed the gun at Viktor's thigh and pulled the trigger without hesitation. A horrible, burning pain brought him to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched the wound.**

 _ **"Viktor!"**_ **Luci screamed. He heard her trying to get free, trying to reach him, but the sound of a heavy slap shut her up.**

 _ **"Ugh, don't hurt her!"**_ **he insisted through gritted teeth, his vision blurring with pain.**

 **"Are you going to come quietly?"**

 _ **"Do I have a choice?!"**_

 **Roberto clicked his tongue and his subordinate let go of Luci, tossing her aside as he made for Viktor and pulled him up roughly by the shoulder. He couldn't help crying aloud as weight was forced onto his leg.**

 **"I'll get the dog," Roberto said. "Don't hurt anyone without my permission," he ordered.**

 **"Yes, sir."**

 **Roberto turned back into the hall, kicking Viktor's door open.**

 **Lucía was crying, trying to get to her feet.**

 **"It's alright, Luci," Vitya said, trying to sound as soothing as possible. "Everything is gonna be okay. I promise." He winced, trying hard not to think about his wound. She continued to wail.**

 **"Tell her to shut up," the man grunted, gun to Vitya's temple. "She'll wake the whole neighborhood."**

 **"That's not going to work!" Viktor snarled. "Can't you see she's scared?!"**

 **"Whether she's scared or not has nothing to do with anything. Make her shut up or else."**

 **Viktor swallowed, too terrified to protest.**

 **"** ** _Lucía,_** **please, don't cry. Your mom will be home soon, okay? And then no one will ever come to bother you again," he said, his voice shaking.**

 **He didn't have time to see if it worked or not because Roberto reappeared a moment later, Makkachin on his leash.**

 **"Let's go," he said brusquely, and they dragged Viktor to the door.**

 _ **"Viktor! No, don't take him! Don't take him!"**_ **Luci screamed at the top of her lungs.** ** _"Viktor! VIKTOR!"_**

 **Her cries tore at Viktor's heart.**

 _ **"Luci, te quiero, I love you!"**_ **he cried, tears falling down his cheeks as he recited the words Nicole had taught him.**

 **For the rest of his life, he would always regret saying that to her.**

 **Perhaps if he'd kept it to himself, if he'd just let her cry, she wouldn't have tried to help him. If he hadn't called out to her, if he hadn't replied to her desperate voice, maybe she wouldn't have tried to shove Roberto's subordinate away from him.**

 **But Viktor would never know, because she did try to help him, and because she did try to shove the man away.**

 **And a moment later there was a flash and the sound of a gun going off, and then Lucía lay dead at his feet, bloody and grotesque.**

 **No one moved.**

 **"Lu... Lucía?!" Viktor said, his voice trembling. He forgot all about the wound in his leg as reached for her, his hand shaking uncontrollably as he brushed the soft, black hair from her face. Her eyes were open. Empty. Gone.**

 **He screamed; he wasn't sure when he managed to free himself from the man holding him, but the next thing he knew he was cradling the little girl in his arms, burying his face in her hair, crying and begging for someone,** ** _anyone_** **to save her. They tried to pry her away, they tried to force him to let go, but he wouldn't, he** ** _couldn't._** **She'd been his precious little sister, his bright, beautiful friend, Nicole's entire world.**

 **They had to drag him out with her corpse still in his arms, and they would have taken him to the car that way as well, if someone hadn't come up the apartment stairs at that exact moment.**

 **"Viktor?"**

 **He froze at the sound of her voice, but he still couldn't bring himself to let go of her daughter.**

 **"What's going on?! Who are you?!" Nicole demanded. "Where are you taking my fam-"**

 **He knew she'd seen the blood when the horrible, strangled gasp escaped her. She dropped all her things, her breath catching in her sudden grief.**

 **"Lucía?** ** _Lucía!?"_**

 **He expected her to cry and scream. He expected her to fall to her knees and check her daughter's pulse frantically. He wasn't sure why he thought that, because it was not at all like her.**

 **He didn't expect her to pull a revolver from her pocket and aim it directly at Roberto, but it seemed to make more sense, when he thought about it later.**

 **"Drop my brother right this instant," she said, a wild, furious look in her eyes as she clicked the safety off. Despite the tears in her eyes, it only made her look deranged and dangerous.**

 **"Nicole!** ** _Don't!"_** **he shouted.**

 **"Give her back," she said, her hands shaking with rage.** ** _"Give my girl back to me!"_**

 **Roberto was not at all unfazed.**

 **"Your girl is dead, Miss Martínez. You'll gain nothing by shooting me."**

 **"I'll gain the satisfaction of seeing you pay for what you've done, both to her** ** _and_** **to Viktor,** ** _¡hijo de la gran puta!"_**

 **"Even if you shoot me, my** ** _boyevik_** **will just shoot you in return, and we'll still take Viktor Mikhailovich."**

 **"Viktor who?!"**

 **Roberto gave Viktor an incredulous look.**

 **"You never told them who you are?"**

 **Viktor was far too horrified to reply.**

 **"What are you talking about?! LET VIKTOR GO OR I'LL KILL YOU!"**

 **"Go ahead, threats like that don't work against the mafia, miss."**

 **"The...The** ** _mafia?!"_**

 **"So he really didn't tell you. What a coward you turned out to be, Viktor," he said, clicking his tongue. "Yes, miss. The mafia. This boy here that you so kindly welcomed into your home is the son of the most prominent** ** _mafioso_** **in Russia. Haven't you ever heard of the Nikiforov** ** _bratva?"_**

 **"Niki...** ** _forov?!_** ** _You said your name was Viktor Syanova!"_**

 **"Syanova is his mother's maiden name," Roberto replied smoothly. "Now step aside, miss, unless you want to die."**

 _ **"No!"**_ **Viktor begged, still clinging to Lucía. "Please, don't hurt her, don't hurt anymore people!"**

 **Still, Nicole didn't put down her gun.**

 **"Why didn't you tell me?!" she cried, obviously heartbroken. "If I'd known you were on the run from the mob... I would have smuggled you out! I'd have taken you both and run away as far as we could! Lucía wouldn't have- she wouldn't have had to-!" She broke down, finally, kneeling down at Viktor's side and prying the girl from his hands, tossing the gun aside.** ** _"Mi nena, my little girl_** **," she wailed, touching Luci's cheek gently, the tears falling thick onto her bloodless face.**

 ** _"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,"_** **Viktor cried.** ** _"I shouldn't have come here, it's all my fault, I'm so sorry!"_**

 **They left her in her grief on the landing, Viktor still begging for forgiveness as his uncle's men dragged him away.**

* * *

The air between them was heavy, charged. Vitya knew that Yuuri wasn't in his right mind, and he knew that it was imperative that he stop him from doing anything drastic. The prospect of his own death didn't scare him, but he knew that Yuuri would be left all alone if he died, and he couldn't allow that to happen, no matter what.

"Yuratchka, I'm not walking away from you," he said, closing his eyes.

" _Liar!_ You won't look at me, you won't even touch me! Are you planning on breaking your promise?! Are you going to betray me again?!"

"I would never do that, Yuuri," Viktor said, hurt by the accusation. "You know I wouldn't."

"I don't trust you!"

Viktor took a deep breath, turning slowly to face his husband. As he'd feared, Yuuri's eyes were frantic and desperate, but his hand was perfectly steady on the gun.

"You don't have to," he said gently, trying to talk him down. "I didn't mean to make you upset, Yuuri... I really was just feeling a bit sick," he lied, his thumb rubbing against the ring on his right hand.

 _Gently, gently... don't startle him, don't say anything that might make him think you're afraid._

He saw Yuuri hesitate slightly, saw his self-control waver.

 _That's it... zolotse... just like that..._

"Don't lie. You never pull away when you're feeling ill," he said coldly, his eyes glinting with anger.

"I'm not lying, I promise," Vitya said, swallowing painfully. "I just had a headache because of the hangover, and I was thoughtless. You know I'm forgetful and impulsive, just like Mom, remember?"

Another shot was fired, this time at Viktor's feet. He didn't flinch.

"Your promises aren't worth shit," he hissed. "You promise the moon and the sun to anyone and everyone, but you always _always_ leave in the end."

"I did, once," Viktor admitted. "And I'll never finish atoning for it. But I came back, Yuratchka. I came back, didn't I?"

"For how long?! When will you decide you've had enough of playing pretend?! _Answer me, Viktor!"_

"You won't be satisfied no matter what I say," he said sadly. "I'm not playing pretend, I'm not lying to you, _zolotse moyo._ I meant every single word of my vows, I mean it every single time when I kiss you good night. If you want to kill me, if it will set your mind at ease, go ahead, but I swear it when I say I will never, _ever,_ let you go again. I'll do whatever it takes to show you that."

For a moment he was afraid it hadn't worked. But then Yuuri lowered the gun and all the bravado seemed to go out of him.

"You're a selfish fucking bastard," he said, his hand shaking as he pulled his glasses off. "But... I just can't get rid of you."

Viktor closed the distance between them, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry for not noticing," he murmured into Yuuri's hair. "I was an idiot, I was too focused on being sick."

He heard a sniffle and he knew Yuuri was crying into his shoulder, ashamed and relieved all at once.

"I fucking hate you," he said, but his hands clung to the back of Viktor's jacket tightly. "Always dragging everyone else along at your own pace..."

"I know, I'm a horrible, selfish person," Vitya said simply, kissing the top of his head.

He thought he heard Yuuri mumble something into his collar, but it was too muffled to make out.

* * *

 **He was numb.**

 **He didn't feel anything, didn't take anything in. He was vaguely aware that he was being yelled at, and he thought he may have been slapped a few times, but it was almost a surprise when he realized he was back in his uncle's house, his aunt cleaning his wound in the bathroom.**

 **"My poor Vitya," she said softly in her thick accent as she poured alcohol over his thigh. He instinctively knew it should hurt, but he didn't feel a thing. "You're lucky it only passed through flesh... Still... I'm so sorry, I should have stopped Valya from sending you away," she lamented.**

 **"There's nothing you could have done, Aunt Lena," he said flatly.**

 **She turned her green eyes up at him, sympathy etched in her expression.**

 **"I still should have tried, foolish boy..."**

 **It was like time was on fast forward; at some point she finished bandaging his leg and he found himself in his own room, sitting on the bed he'd once called his own. Chris wasn't there, but he hardly noticed. Makkachin whimpered at his feet, sensing that something was wrong, but Viktor didn't have the energy to pet him.**

 _ **It should have been me,**_ **he thought, staring down at his hands.** ** _I'm the reason Luci died, I'm the reason Nicole lost her whole family._**

 **The reality of it suddenly felt like it would tear him apart**

 **"It should have been** ** _me!_** **" he cried aloud, tearing at his hair, digging his nails into his skin. "I should have died,** ** _I should have been the one to die!"_** **he shouted, not caring that he might be heard. He fell back onto his bed, covering his face in his hands.**

 _ **Please, God, anyone! Take me, take my life, give it back to her! Bring my Lucía back! I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be here when she's dead!**_

 **A vague memory came to the front of his mind and he suddenly sat up, ignoring his wound. He limped over to his desk and ripped the drawer open; as he'd thought, they'd left his Glock right where he always kept it, waiting for him to return. He reached for it, his hands steady, determined to make things right.**

 _ **Give her back,**_ **he thought as he slid the barrel into his open mouth, closing his eyes and praying for release, praying for the nightmare to end.**

 **He pulled the trigger.**

 **The chamber clicked in silence. It was empty.**

 **Just like his heart.**

* * *

 **Notes:**

This was honestly the most draining chapter for me to write. Murder and rape aside, almost every single piece of emotional turmoil in this was pulled from my own experience with severe anxiety and clinical depression. It was very hard to put down into words and I cried more than once. I hope it isn't a terrible read or too poorly written. I tried to be as authentic as possible. As always, I'm in your care. Let me know what you think of this trainwreck. Until next time.


	14. Illusions

Yuuri didn't once let go of Viktor's waist once they left the bathroom. Vitya thought that he might let go once they met up with the others, but if anything, Yuuri merely held on tighter, his jaw set and his eyes wary, defensive. He looked a bit like a child who was afraid that someone might take his favorite toy, and it made Vitya feel terribly guilty for not having noticed his husband's mental state until it was too late. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder, giving his subordinates a swift glance that clearly warned them not to comment on the _pakhan's_ behavior. Roma and Alyosha looked like they were dying to ask, either out of worry or plain curiosity, but Antosha and Petya pretended not to notice; of all the _avtoriyets,_ Antona and Pyotr were the only ones who consistently worked in close contact with Yuuri, and they were aware of the special care and sensitivity that he sometimes required. Vitya knew they didn't think any less of him for it; they had both been around when Yuuri was young and had some idea of what had happened.

Yuuri didn't know that, because Viktor had gone to great lengths to ensure his safety and stability behind his back, and both Antona and Petya had special orders in the case of an emergency. So far that measure hadn't been needed, but it was reassuring for Viktor to know that he wasn't the only one looking out for Yuuri in a personal capacity, and he appreciated their feigned normalcy now.

Mari, however, was not one of Viktor's subordinates. She looked openly worried and confused as they were ushered through the passport screening. Up until now she hadn't really seen Yuuri like this, wound up and territorial, and while he and Viktor had always been playfully intimate in front of her, this was different, and she could sense it.

Once they were passed through and they made their way to their gate, she tapped Viktor on the shoulder inconspicuously. He turned, slightly startled, his arm still around Yuuri's shoulder as they walked. He opened his mouth to ask what she wanted but she shook her head almost imperceptibly and made a small gesture toward Yuuri.

 _"Is he alright?"_ her brown eyes seemed to be asking, her eyebrow furrowed with concern. Viktor managed a small smile for her.

 _She's only known him for a few days, and already she treats him like a little brother. I like her. A lot._

He nodded at her, and she seemed to bite the inside of her cheek. Clearly she was burning to ask more, but perhaps out of respect for their marital privacy, she held her tongue. Viktor appreciated her thoughtfulness, because while Yuuri wasn't quite _there_ at the moment, he was still stressed and it was dangerous to push him in that state.

It wasn't until they were boarded and waiting for the plane to take off that Yuuri finally spoke.

"Vitya," he said, so quietly that only Viktor, who was constantly on alert, would have heard. Even in their seats, his cheek was pressed to Viktor's shoulder, his fingers clinging to Viktor's right hand.

"Hmm? What is it, Yuratchka?" Vitya asked, rubbing the back of Yuuri's hand with his thumb.

"I'm sorry. For shooting at you."

Viktor blinked, then chuckled.

"Don't worry about it. It's not like you to apologize after something like that."

"Mm, but... still."

He fell silent for a moment, his grip tightening slightly.

"Vitya... you remember, don't you?"

"Remember what, Yuuri?"

"Your vows," he said, his finger caressing Viktor's ring.

"Of course," Viktor said, a bit lost as to what Yuuri was getting at.

"You promised me you would always stay with me."

"I did."

"And... you promised you would never lie to me." Yuuri paused, his fingernails digging into Viktor's flesh slightly.

"...I did."

"So, you aren't lying, right?" Yuuri asked, his voice small and hurt. "You don't want to leave me, do you, Vitya?" He turned his eyes to Vitya, looking like he might cry, like he might break if Viktor confirmed his fears.

Viktor's throat ran dry with guilt. He felt like he was walking on ice; one wrong move, and everything would break beneath his feet. He stared back into those eyes he loved so much, those brown, warm irises that looked like they could pull him in and envelop him for a lifetime. He took Yuuri's face in his hands and kissed his eyelids and his nose with as much tenderness as he could muster, leaning in to press his lips to Yuuri's mouth last.

"No," he said, murmuring reassurances into Yuuri's skin, as though the words could melt into him, into his flesh and into his bloodstream, and reach his guarded heart. "Never."

He wasn't sure if Yuuri believed him or not. He gave a small sigh of relief, but there was fear and anxiety in his eyes, like he wanted to believe the words but couldn't quite bring himself to relax.

"No matter what...?" he asked, his voice a whisper.

"No matter what, Yuratchka," Viktor said, stroking his cheek gently with his thumb. "You're my treasure. My whole life. My everything. I love you."

Yuuri closed his eyes and nodded to himself slightly, raising a hand to touch Viktor's arm.

"Right... you're mine..." he mumbled under his breath.

"Yes, I'm yours," Vitya agreed, his heart aching as Yuuri settled in his arms, his face buried in Vitya's shoulder. "All yours, _zolotse moyo."_

 _I'm tired,_ he realized, staring blankly at nothing, his cheek pressed to Yuuri's hair. _What good does it do, telling him this over and over again if he never believes it? What's the point of showering him in my feelings if they just won't get through?_

He thought he'd been making progress. He thought that Yuuri had started to heal just a little, that he might start understanding just how much Viktor cared for him. He'd thought that being married might prove how devoted he was, how his words weren't just lies and lip service. But no matter how many kisses they shared, no matter how many caresses and reassurances Viktor gave him, they were always thrown back to square one by the ghost of the man who haunted them both. His efforts were never enough.

 _They're not enough to erase the damage Nikita left behind._

I'm _not enough._

His eyes stung, but he forced the tears back with all of his self-control.

He had to be enough. He had to do it, or Yuuri would have nothing left to hold on to.

* * *

 **"We're here, Vitya."**

 **He didn't realize he was being spoken to until Chris gently shook his shoulder a moment later.**

 **"We're here," he said, echoing his mother. In the year Viktor had been gone, Chris had grown into a very handsome young man, full of the same charm and confidence that Viktor had once so proudly worn on his sleeve. The two boys had been as close as brothers, sharing everything from secrets to nail polish to weapons and advice, but now Vitya's cousin seemed so far away from him, a stranger in familiar guise.**

 **"Oh," he said, trying to remember what it was he was doing. He glanced out the window and was reminded that they were at the airport; after a few weeks of waiting for his leg to heal, he was finally being sent home.**

 **He didn't feel anything in particular about it.**

 **His time seemed to have stopped the moment Luci's heart had. The world was rushing past him, but he felt detached, strung along. He was alive, but only in the most basic sense, and only because his aunt had walked in on him during his second suicide attempt, a knife pressed to the skin of his throat. After that, Chris had been at his side at all times, even in the shower, to make sure he didn't try to hurt himself.**

 _ **I just want it to end,**_ **he thought sluggishly as Chris helped him get out of the car. He couldn't feel afraid or excited about seeing his parents again; he couldn't even feel sad about saying goodbye to his aunt and cousin. His uncle had refused to come see him off; he was still angry about what had happened, though he was the one who had insisted on taking Vitya to get his gunshot wound looked at by a doctor.**

 **"Looks like we're a little early," Lena noted, glancing at her watch. "Chris, look after him for a bit, yes? I'll get his luggage checked in."**

 **"Yes, mom."**

 **Viktor felt himself being steered into the terminal, but he blinked and he was suddenly seated on a chair in what looked like the lobby outside his flight gate. His aunt and cousin were standing at his side, a firm hand on his shoulder.**

 **"Will he be alright on the flight?" Lena was asking Chris worriedly. "They allowed us to come in with him because of the circumstances, but-"**

 **"They'll make sure he's not by himself for too long," Chris said in a reassuring tone. "They have protocol for this, apparently."**

 **"I wish one of us could have gone with him..."**

 **"He'll be alright, don't worry." Viktor glanced up, but Chris didn't look nearly as confident as he sounded. His brow was furrowed, his hands twitching slightly at his side. He seemed to notice Vitya staring up at him and his expression changed.**

 **"You'll be fine," he said, ruffling Viktor's hair affectionately, as though he were the older one. "Aunt Katya and Uncle Misha are waiting for you at the airport. Don't you want to see them? Don't you want to see Yuuri again?"**

 **Vitya blinked, slightly confused.**

 **"Yuu... ri?"**

 **"Yeah. Your little brother. Don't you remember? You were always talking about him, about how cute and sweet he is. You called him a lot, when you were younger." Chris' green eyes softened as he knelt in front of Viktor, taking his hands. "Vitya, I know you're hurting after what happened, but it's going to be okay. You're strong. You're Viktor Nikiforov, remember?"**

 **"That doesn't mean anything," he said, his voice thick with pain.**

 **"It means everything to me," Chris said firmly. "You and I might not be blood related, but the Nikiforov name makes us brothers, and it's what allowed us to meet in the first place. Was all the time we spent together pointless, Vitya?"**

 **Viktor grimaced, shaking his head slightly.**

 **"There, see? Someone you care about might be gone, but we're still here, and we're here for you. Your family in Russia too. You have to stay alive for them, okay?"**

 **Vitya didn't make any move to agree or disagree. Chris' grip tightened on his hands.**

 **"You** ** _have_** **to live, Vitya," he insisted, and his eyes were tearing up. "If you won't do it for us, or for Aunt Katya and Uncle Misha, do it for your brother. You promised you'd go back to him, didn't you?"**

 **"That... that was a long time ago," Viktor said, surprised that Chris remembered such a small detail. Vitya had been so preoccupied with his own worries that he'd almost forgotten it himself. They hadn't spoken much for the last few years, and not at all while he was living with Nicole. It wasn't that he didn't care about Yuuri; they'd just grown apart after seven years of living so far from each other. "Yuuri's doing fine now."**

 **"Promises are promises," Chris said stubbornly. "So promise** ** _me_** **you'll go back and live, okay? At least... at least** ** _try."_**

 **It hit Vitya suddenly, with all the force of an oncoming train. This was goodbye; he couldn't guarantee that they'd ever meet again. Even if Vitya lived on, Chris could be hurt or killed on the job, Aunt Lena or Uncle Valya could die from age or illness, anything could happen. Life was not a given. Life was not eternal.**

 **"I'll... I'll try," he said, and he couldn't help crying a little as he tried not to think of his cousin and aunt, lying dead in a pool of their own blood.**

 **"I'm gonna miss you," his cousin said sadly. "I missed you all that time you were gone, but at least we get to say goodbye this time."**

 **He stood up, only to throw his arms around Viktor and pull him into a tight embrace.**

 **"You better call me, you bloody, glorious son of a bitch," he said, his voice thick with tears. "And if I don't get at least one sexy selfie a week I'm gonna run right to Russia and smack you until you come back to your senses."**

 **"...Yeah, please do," Viktor managed to laugh slightly. Chris kissed his cheek.**

 ** _"Dosvidanya,_** **Vitya. Don't forget your promise."**

 **He pulled away, and then it was Aunt Lena smothering him in hugs and kisses.**

 **"I know Valya isn't here because he's stubborn, but he was worried about you the whole time you were gone," she said, stroking his hair. "We both were. Please take care of yourself, Vitya. You'll always be like our second son,** ** _mon petit argent_** **," she whispered, using an old childhood nickname. "I love you,** ** _dosvidanya."_**

 ** _"Dosvidanya,_** **Aunt Lena," he cried, clinging to her desperately. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."**

 **He kept apologizing long after she let go and she and Chris saw him board, waving at him sadly. He wasn't sure who he was asking for forgiveness, but the words wouldn't stop, and his heart hurt too much to ask himself why.**

* * *

 _"Ane-ue!"_

Yuuri saw the change that came over Mari almost immediately. The relaxed, casual demeanor she'd had in front of the Russians while in China vanished as she stepped out of the car, her eyes glinting coldly in the sun as her subordinates came to the gate of the inn to greet her.

 _"Okaerinasai, Kumichou!"_ they said together, bowing low. She stopped in front of them, crossing her arms.

"I'm back," she said flatly in Japanese. "You idiots better have kept the place running smoothly while I was gone."

"Yes, _Ane-ue,"_ one man at the front said, straightening. Yuuri vaguely recognized him as one of Mari's closest advisors, a short man with cropped, light brown hair and eyes. He looked quite a bit older than most of the other men under her command and was holding up a long, lacquered sheathe for her. "There were no problems with the inn or with the family in your absence."

"Good. Is mother home?" she asked as she handed her luggage off to the nearest underling and took the sheathe, inspecting the long blade lazily for a moment before sliding it back into place. At the same time, Yuuri felt Viktor protectively place a hand around his hip as he joined him, the others close behind with their suitcases. Normally he wouldn't allow Vitya to show such an intimate side in public, but at the moment, Yuuri was grateful for it, so he said nothing and continued to watch the exchange.

"Yes, ma'am. Hiroko-san arrived last night."

"Perfect," she said, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. "You _did_ reserve the rooms I told you to, Jirou?"

"Of course, _Ane-ue."_

Mari nodded.

"Come along," she barked behind her in English, gesturing for the Russians to follow her. "You _rosuke_ can use the same rooms as before, as long as you don't trash 'em. Jirou, ask Takeda to bring some sake to the banquet hall. And tell mother I'm home."

"Yes, _kumichou."_

"So that was Jirou, your right hand?" Vitya asked once they'd passed the congregation of subordinates and dismissed the _avtoriyets_. His hand was still on Yuuri's waist, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the bone.

"Minami Jirou," Mari said. "He worked for my father while he was still alive, though he was very young at the time. He was one of the few survivors of the fire."

"I don't remember him," Yuuri said, surprised to hear that Jirou had served the Katsukis in the past.

"He was a low ranking member," she shrugged. "I doubt you two ever met, though he says he saw you a few times around the house. He's in his late forties now, but he's the one who came to look for me when the group decided to re-form. He and my mother went to school together, so he knew I was Toshiya's daughter."

"Speaking of your mother," Yuuri said, finally disentangling himself from Viktor's embrace so he could search his pockets for a cigarette. "I heard you say she's here now."

Mari looked over her shoulder, looking a little nervous as she led the way down the hall.

"Err, well, yes. She cut her vacation short to come back."

"Why?" Viktor asked, curious.

Yuuri's sister paused outside of a paper screen door, her hand on the wooden frame.

"Uh, well, I mentioned that Yuuri is here, and she insisted on coming to see you. I hope that's... not a problem?" she asked, glancing at Viktor for some reason. Yuuri frowned.

"Why would it be?"

"Well, my mother can be a bit... overbearing... and... enthusiastic."

"So? Aren't all mothers?" Yuuri asked. Vitya chuckled slightly.

"Ours certainly is," he noted. "It's not a problem, _Ane-ue."_ Mari breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good," she said, sliding the door open. "Have a seat, I'll go get her." She left the doors open to the courtyard. As soon as she was gone, Vitya nudged him forward gently.

"Do you need an ashtray?" he asked as Yuuri took a seat on one of the floor cushions around the low table.

"Mm, please."

Viktor went to the small cabinet in the corner and returned with one for him, setting it in on the table. He made to get up, but Yuuri took his sleeve.

"Sit with me today," he said, unable to keep the plea from his voice.

Vitya hesitated.

"But, I should be standing guard-"

"Stay with me," Yuuri repeated, his grip tightening slightly around the fabric. The panic attack had faded some time ago, but he was still anxious, still afraid that if he let Vitya out of his sight, his husband might disappear.

* * *

 **The flight had been long, but Viktor hardly seemed to notice when it was over. Before he knew it he was being ushered off the plane, and then he was back in Russia for the first time in seven years, confused and lost. It had been so long since he'd heard so many people speaking Russian around him, so long since he'd seen his language printed on signs, that he was slightly overwhelmed. He kept confusing the letters for English ones, kept asking people for help in the wrong language, and it was a miracle that he ever managed to collect his things and make his way to Arrivals.**

 **His mother was waiting for him, just as his aunt had promised. She didn't seem to have aged a day since he'd last seen her, her silvery blond hair tied over her shoulder, but now she seemed much shorter than he remembered. He had to remind himself that he was the one who had changed, who had grown taller, as he dragged his suitcase over to her.**

 **"Hello,** ** _mama,"_** **he said awkwardly, unable to look her in the eyes. There was a small pause, and then she slapped him across the face so hard that the sound of it echoed ominously through the airport. Several people turned to watch.**

 **"'Hello' my** ** _foot!"_** **Katerina hissed, grabbing him by the ear. She was only an inch or so shorter than him, but she nevertheless pulled him down to her level. "If you hadn't already been shot, I would have done it myself, you little** ** _bastard!"_** **Viktor winced. She only ever called him a bastard when she was furious.**

 **"Ow!" he cried as she grinded her heel into his foot.**

 **"Shut up! Do you have any idea how worried your father and I have been?! Do you know how upset Yuuri was when he heard you were missing?!** **He cried for a week!"**

 **"I'm sor-"**

 **"And then you go and try to** ** _kill yourself?!"_** **she cried, real tears dripping down her cheeks. "You idiot son," she wailed, letting go of his ear and wrapping her arms around his neck. "You poor, stupid, foolish boy..."**

 **Vitya was reminded of Nicole, of her warmth, her kindness. Katerina had sent him away, but it wasn't fair to blame her for abandoning him, he realized. It was the** ** _bratva_** **that was responsible for sending him away, it was the** ** _bratva_** **who had killed all those innocent people he'd failed to protect. Katerina was just his mother, a fierce, trigger-happy woman, but his mother all the same, and she loved him no matter how disappointed she was in what he'd done.**

 **Just like Nicole had said.**

 _ **"I'm sorry, mama,"**_ **he sobbed into her shoulder, clinging to her tightly.** ** _I'm so, so sorry, Nicole... if I'd done as you asked, if I'd just gone home... Luci would still be alive._**

 **He wasn't sure how long they stood there, but finally Katerina stepped back and frowned, placing her hands on his face and examining him carefully.**

 **"There's so much I want to ask you, so much we need to talk about. But we need to get you home first. You've grown thin," she said, "We'll get food in you as soon as we get back,** ** _da?"_**

 **"Okay," he sniffled, feeling like an overgrown boy. She took his luggage and his hand, pulling him toward the parking lot.**

 **"Misha is sorry he couldn't come," she said as they walked. "Something came up in Staraya, and he had to go in person."**

 **"Mm," he replied, not all that concerned with his father's absence. He knew he would need to explain what he'd done, and why he didn't intend to return to the** ** _bratva_** **, so he was glad their meeting was delayed, if only for a little while.**

 **"I told Yuratchka not to skip school, but he wanted to. Nikita will drop him off after."**

 **She paused, stopping on the asphalt.**

 **"Vitya, I think something is wrong with Yuratchka," she said suddenly, nervously. "He's closing himself off, he's not smiling anymore. He won't talk to anyone, but I don't want to push him... Your father says I'm overreacting, that he's just like that because he's a teenager, but..."**

 **Her fingers squeezed his hand tightly.**

 **"No, never mind," she muttered. "I'm sure it's nothing... and the last thing you need is to hear an old woman's silly concerns right now," she said, turning to give him a small smile over her shoulder.**

 **Vitya chuckled slightly.**

 **"You're not old,** ** _mama._** **But Father is probably right, I'm sure Yuuri is fine."**

 _ **After all, he's always sounded fine whenever we talked over the phone. He's probably just going through a phase.**_

 **There was a small voice somewhere in his head that told him that he'd been sixteen not that long ago himself, and that he'd had very real worries and concerns, but he was still uncertain, still numb after losing Luci. It was all he could do to take each step forward and force himself to function at all.**

* * *

"You must be Yuuri," Mari's mother said in Japanese as soon as she saw him. She looked nothing like Mari, Viktor thought. She was heavyset and had a rounded, kind face, with brown hair and eyes. Like Yuuri, she wore glasses, but it made her look ditzy instead of calculating. She smiled at them both and took a seat across from them. "You look a bit like Toshiya," she said, looking him over carefully. "But you're certainly Okukawa Yumi's son."

"Thank you," Yuuri said, being polite. "I'm told she was a beautiful woman, so it's flattering to be told I resemble her."

Mari cleared her throat.

"Yuuri, Brother-in-law, this is my mother, Hasegawa Hiroko," she said, sitting at her mother's side.

"A pleasure," Viktor said in his halting Japanese, giving her his brightest smile.

"Likewise," Yuuri said, bowing slightly toward her. "It's an honor to meet my sister's mother."

"Ah, no, please, no need to be so formal," Hiroko laughed, waving her hand. "I'm not _yakuza._ I'm just a normal innkeeper." She gestured at her simple clothes.

"I wouldn't say _normal, kaa-san,"_ Mari snorted as she pulled a cigarette from her pocket. "Normal innkeepers don't seduce married men or run the _yakuza_ out of their inns."

"Do you understand what we're saying?" Yuuri asked in Russian as Hiroko laughed, his hand on Vitya's underneath the table.

"Mm, I understand some," he said. "But a translation would be appreciated."

Yuuri nodded. "Mari, Vitya's Japanese is a little basic. Do you mind if we talk in English?"

"It should be fine," she said, looking at her mother. "Your English is passable, isn't it, mom?"

"I deal with travelers, so I speak a little," Hiroko said, smiling. "Mari can tell me if I don't know."

"Alright. Well, I suppose we should talk plans," Mari said, taking a drag from her cigarette. "I can arrange for a car to take us to Fukuoka tomorrow afternoon."

"So soon?" Viktor asked, a little surprised. He'd been hoping they'd have a day or two to rest; the entire trip had been incredibly stressful so far, and they could use a little time to unwind.

"If Agape really is still around, and if they catch wind of our little investigation, they could try to get rid of the evidence," Mari pointed out. "Or they could order us killed."

Hiroko stared down at her hands, but didn't make any move to interrupt. Vitya felt a stab of guilt.

 _Even the mothers involved in the mafia worry about their kids,_ he reminded himself. _Mari should have waited until she left to start planning._

"How far is it from Saga to Fukuoka?" Yuuri asked, completely oblivious to Hiroko's discomfort.

"Not far," Mari shrugged.

"Are you still going to come?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I'll dye my hair tonight. Dirty blonde should work alright, no?"

"I'd go with light brown," Yuuri said. "You don't want to call too much attention to yourself."

"Hmm, ok. What about the suits? Is there anything special you use for your subordinates?"

"Not in particular. We prefer black, because it hides stains well."

"Perfect, I have one," she said, tapping her cigarette against the ashtray. "If they're anything like they were last time I was there, they'll only let a few of us in. I'd pick your best fighters to come along."

"Noted," Yuuri said. Vitya made a mental note to remind Antosha and Petya that they would be on duty the next day.

"I still say this plan is a bad idea," Viktor muttered. "It's too simplistic; all kinds of things can go wrong."

"Lighten up, Brother-in-law," Mari said, grinning. "It'll be fun, an adventure. I thought mafiosos loved the thrill."

 _Sure, the ones who joined by choice,_ he thought ruefully.

* * *

 **"No,** ** _please-!"_**

 **Yuuri's cry was silenced as Nikita clamped his hand over Yuuri's mouth, muffling his voice.**

 **Even after all those months, he couldn't help trying to fight back every time Nikita cornered him. He was reminded that he had to be good, that he had to atone and that in doing so he could prevent hurting anyone else, but as soon as Nikita touched his skin, panic overtook him, sending him into a frenzied, instinctual need to run away, to protect himself.**

 **Usually Nikita easily overpowered him, but sometimes the fear was so strong that he had to be bound to keep him still. He came home with chafed wrists some days, and he had to wear long sweaters and shirts to keep them out of sight, but at least Nikita was mostly careful not to be too rough; he never bled anymore, though it still hurt terribly and Yuuri often suffered from lower back pain.**

 _ **It'll be over soon, it'll be over in a minute!**_ **he thought to himself desperately, trying not to think of the pain in his body, of Nikita sliding in and out of him ruthlessly, of the heavy breathing behind him. He shut his eyes tightly, unable to hold back a cry as Nikita grabbed his hair and increased his pace.** ** _Stop, please stop, please, no more!_**

 **He was dropped suddenly onto the table face first, and he knew it was finally over.**

 **He whimpered slightly as Nikita finally untied his wrists from behind his back, the blood rushing back into his hands painfully.**

 **"Shit," Nikita muttered to himself, gripping his own hair with unnatural force as he pulled his slacks back on. His shirt was covered in blood; they had just finished killing someone when Nikita turned on Yuuri, blaming the boy's involuntary arousal for his actions. Even now, the sight of Nikita working, the sight of someone bleeding out, was enough to bring up the darkest parts of Yuuri's fantasies. Nikita seized on that fact whenever he could, even though Yuuri's excitement always faded as soon as he was touched, replaced by pure fear. "Get dressed," he said, his voice strained with what Yuuri recognized as guilt and self-hatred. Nikita often sat alone in the car for a good while after, and Yuuri knew he cried and hurt himself in small ways for the pain he caused Yuuri.**

 _ **No, for the pain I cause him,**_ **Yuuri corrected himself, wiping the tears from his cheeks with a shaky hand as he tried to stand.** ** _I'm the one who does this to him, I'm the one who breaks him._** **He reached for his shirt, pulling it on slowly, trying not to strain his arms. His eyes fell on the toolbox on the table, and he had to stop himself from fantasizing about slitting his own throat, about shooting himself between the eyes.**

 _ **This is all your fault. You can't run away,**_ **he thought desperately as he clutched the fabric of his shirt, trying to calm his breathing. He wasn't sure how he found the strength to finish dressing, but when he was done he grabbed the box and took it outside to the car, deliberately keeping his mind as blank as possible. He didn't want to break down in front of Nikita and make him feel worse for what happened.**

 **They drove home in silence, Yuuri hugging his abdomen as he tried not to vomit. He often felt physically sick after Nikita touched him, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the physical acts or because of his own twisted thoughts. They reached the house relatively quickly, and Nikita parked the car outside the gate.**

 **"Are you alright, Yuratchka?" he finally asked, staring out the window in order to avoid his gaze.**

 **Yuuri merely nodded, and though Nikita couldn't see him, he knew he understood.**

 **"Don't forget to burn the shirt," he said.**

 **"Yes, I know."**

 **"See you tomorrow."**

 **"...Mm."**

 **He opened the door and stepped out, and Nikita drove away. Yuuri waited until he was out of sight to clap a hand to his mouth and retch violently into the bushes nearby.**

 _ **Fuck,**_ **he thought, tears stinging in the corner of his eyes.** ** _I didn't want this to happen today, of all days! I wanted to be able to welcome Vitya home with a smile, not like this!_**

 **His arms tightened around his own torso, pain burning in the pit of his stomach.**

 _ **This must be punishment,**_ **he realized, crouching down and burying his face in his arms.** ** _God is punishing me, for tempting Nikita and then thinking I can go home to greet my brother like I've done nothing wrong. For thinking it's alright if I just see him..._**

 **He cried, curling in on himself.**

 _ **God, I'm so scared. What if I break him? What if I dirty him, and make him ugly and twisted like Nikita?! I don't want to hurt Vitya, I just... I just want to see him, to hug him a little. Is that so awful? Is that so sinful?!**_

 **He didn't need an answer, because he already knew it was.**

* * *

He poured water over Yuuri's hair and gently sunk his hands into the soft, black mess, his fingers brushing through it lovingly.

"I'm sure the soap has all been washed out, Vitya," Yuuri said pointedly.

"I know," Viktor said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "It just feels nice."

"So does being in the hot spring," Yuuri sighed. "Which will never happen if you don't finish washing me."

"Right, sorry," Vitya mumbled, picking up the soapy sponge and going to work on Yuuri's back. The scars were more pronounced on his back, a flame-like pattern of discolored skin, ridged in some places, smooth in others. Yuuri hated looking at them, but Viktor thought they were oddly beautiful; they called to mind some of the elaborate Japanese tattoos he'd seen on members of Mari's group. He always loved kissing them, though Yuuri didn't always allow it.

"You're daydreaming again," Yuuri huffed.

Viktor blinked.

"Oh, right." He shook himself awake, trying to focus. Yuuri needed to relax for at least a few hours before their operation the next day.

He finished scrubbing Yuuri's body and poured warm water over him one last time.

"There," he said, kissing his shoulder. "All clean." Yuuri hummed appreciatively and stood up. Vitya almost forgot to follow as he watched him walk over to the pool, his eyes fixed firmly on the swaying of Yuuri's hips, on the curve of his ass, on the soft skin between his thighs. He watched as Yuuri sunk into the water, sighing sensually, leaning his head back against the rocks at the edge of the pool.

"This is heaven," Yuuri said, and Vitya found himself agreeing wholeheartedly, even though he hadn't so much as touched the water.

He somehow pulled himself together enough to slip into the pool, the burning heat enveloping his skin deliciously.

"I could die in peace here," he sighed, closing his eyes.

"Right?" Yuuri muttered, his toes brushing against Vitya's leg. "It feels great."

Viktor opened one eye and saw that Yuuri was staring at him, his eyes glinting mischievously as his toes ran up his thigh.

"What are you doing?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Nothing. Just thinking it could feel _better."_

"Is that an invitation, or an order, Yura?"

Yuuri smiled, a warm, soft smile, and Vitya didn't need to be told twice to take him in his arms, pressing their lips together into a breathless kiss. He forgot everything, forgot all of his earlier worries, all of the insecurities that had been plaguing him, all the weariness that came from being Yuuri's lover and only pillar of support. None of that mattered, not when Yuuri was right there, smiling at him so innocently, so sweetly.

He pushed his tongue into Yuuri's mouth, relishing the little moan of desire that vibrated against his lips, tangling his hands again in that soft black hair.

"Are you going to fuck me in the bath?" Yuuri asked seductively, gasping for breath when they broke apart.

Viktor groaned in frustration. He _wanted_ to, he wanted to take Yuuri right there, but there was something more important than his own desires.

"No," he admitted, and obvious disappointment came over Yuuri's features. Viktor took him by the waist in response, lifting him up onto the edge of the pool.

"Vitya?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"I have something else in mind," he replied, pulling Yuuri down into another feverish kiss. Without letting go, he pushed himself between Yuuri's thighs, his hands caressing every bit of skin he could reach. He touched Yuuri's erection lightly, teasingly, coaxing another moan out of him before he pulled back.

"You said you wouldn't fuck me," Yuuri said in a strained voice as Vitya's fingertips brushed against him deliberately.

"And I won't," Vitya said meaningfully. He licked Yuuri gently for a moment before taking him in his mouth, placing both hands on Yuuri's hips as he worked. It felt good, somehow, knowing that Yuuri trusted him enough to let him do this, knowing that he could make Yuuri cry out like that, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Vitya!" he cried, his hands pulling on Viktor's hair slightly, his legs locked around Vitya's shoulders. He began to move his hips, hitting the back of Viktor's throat with each thrust, but Vitya only massaged his fingers into Yuuri's flesh, his tongue caressing the underside of Yuuri's shaft as he sucked with varying force, trying to match Yuuri's pace.

 _Yes, call my name,_ he thought, moaning against Yuuri's dick as Yuuri's voice echoed in the night air. _Louder, Yura, call me...!_

 _"Vitya, Vitya, I'm-!"_ he cried senselessly, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy. Usually that was the moment he wanted Viktor to pull away, but this time Vitya dug his hands into the soft skin of Yuuri's ass, nearly choking with the effort of keeping Yuuri's frantic movements in his mouth.

 _"Vitya, let me- I'm going to-!"_

He came almost violently, with a tremor, his toes curled and his voice cracking as he curled in on himself, his face buried in Vitya's hair.

Viktor closed his eyes, listening to the ragged breathing, feeling Yuuri twitch and throb against his tongue as he swallowed, his own body heavily aroused beneath the water.

He pulled away enough to let go, but then merely pressed his face against Yuuri's warm thigh, placing soft kisses on the skin.

"Why-?" Yuuri groaned a minute later, still too weak to move. "Why did you do that? I didn't want you to actually swallow..."

"Because I wanted to," Viktor murmured. "That's all."

"But it's dirty, it's-"

"It isn't, nothing about you is dirty, Yura." He kissed his stomach gently, tenderly. "I love everything about you, and I want you to feel that in the deepest part of your being."

"But I'll taint you, I'll-!"

Vitya took his arms and took a step back to look him in the face. He was crying, his face red with effort.

 _Beautiful..._

"That's Nikita talking," he said firmly, staring up into those wide brown eyes. "We've been touching each other for years, Yuratchka. Do I look tainted to you?"

Yuuri bit his lip but shook his head slightly.

"No," he whispered. "You don't."

Viktor gently tugged him back into the water so they were standing chest to chest, Yuuri looking up at him with doubt and fear in his eyes.

"What do I look like to you, Yura?" he asked, pressing one hand to Yuuri's face, brushing the hair from his flushed cheek.

"Like... like Vitya."

"The same one you've known all along, right?"

Yuuri nodded.

"I'm still the Viktor who loves you, I haven't been corrupted in any way," he said, leaning in to kiss him deeply, wanting Yuuri to taste himself, to see that he wasn't poisoning anyone except his own heart.

"I'm still me. I'm still the same Viktor I was when I came back from the States," he breathed when they broke apart. Yuuri gave another small nod, the tears clinging to his eyelashes like a painting.

But it was a lie, and they both knew it. Everything was different now, for better or worse.

* * *

 **Vitya heard the key turn in the lock and sat up in the parlor apprehensively, expecting his father to come marching in and start shouting. Instead, a tired, unfamiliar voice called out from the hall.**

 **"Mom, I'm home," it said, and Viktor had to remember that Yuuri was now sixteen, and that his voice must have changed in the time between their last phone call and now.**

 **"Welcome back,** ** _pryanichek!"_** **Katerina sang out from the kitchen. She had, under Viktor's supervision, made dinner and was now cleaning the stove. He heard her wash her hands and the clacking of her shoes on the floor. "Oh no, you're all dirty again," she said, her voice now in the hall as well. "Nikita really shouldn't make you work so hard, you're still so young..."**

 **"It's fine," Yuuri said. "I'm used to it already. It doesn't bother me."**

 **Curiosity got the better of Viktor, and he found himself lingering at the entrance to the parlor, wondering whether or not to announce himself. But then he caught sight of Yuuri, and he found himself staring at the young man that he could barely recognize.**

 **He wasn't anything like the fragile little boy he'd left behind all those years before. This was something completely different, a sensual, almost feminine figure that looked far too graceful to belong to anything but a dancer. His jawline was pronounced in just such a way to suggest a more masculine feeling, and his shoulders and throat were definitely far too broad to belong to a woman, but there was a certain** ** _something_** **that made it difficult to describe him as anything but 'beautiful.'**

 **There** ** _were_** **other words, but they were words that Viktor didn't feel comfortable applying to his little brother.**

 **And then Viktor realized that Yuuri was covered in blood, his neck smeared with it, his shirt stained and his gloves dripping as he pulled them off without so much as a look of disgust.**

 **He suddenly felt sick.**

 **"Yu-Yuuri?" he asked, clutching the door frame and hoping that this indifferent person wasn't the brother he loved, that it wasn't the same boy who had so earnestly said he couldn't imagine hurting anyone.**

 **The young man turned to look at him, and though the eyes were the same shade of brown, though they were the same, angled shape he remembered, they weren't Yuuri's eyes.**

 **Yuuri's eyes weren't resigned and cold like this. They weren't steely or guarded. Never with Viktor, not with him.**

 **"Vitya, you're home," he said, smiling slightly. It didn't reach his eyes.**

 **"Wh-Who** ** _are_** **you?" Viktor choked out, unable to stop himself from shaking. There was so much blood,** ** _so much_** **, just like Lucía. He couldn't concentrate, he didn't know what he was saying; his vision was flickering between the house in St. Petersburg and the apartment in New York. He hardly noticed the hurt look that flickered in Yuuri's eyes a second later, or the concern in his mother's expression. "You're not Yuuri."**

 **"What are you saying, Vitya, of course it's Yuratchka," Katerina said, but her voice sounded odd, as if from a distance. "He's just grown now. Don't tell me you expected him to still be the little boy tugging at your shirt?"**

 **Yuuri didn't move, but Katerina placed a hand on his back, urging him forward.**

 **"See? It's hi-"**

 _ **"Stay away from me!"**_ **Viktor shrieked, nearly tripping over himself in his sudden need to get as far away from the blood as possible. "Yuuri isn't a killer!** ** _He's not a murderer!"_** **he shouted, completely losing his head.**

 **"Viktor!" Katerina said, taking his shoulders. "You** ** _know_** **what we do in this family! You know that Yuuri's been training to become** ** _sovietnik!_** **He's sixteen, a** ** _shetsyorka!_** **It's not the same as what happened in New-"**

 **None of the words were getting through to him. Yuuri was staring at him with a strange expression on his face, but all Viktor could see was the red blossom on his chest. He made a move, as if to take a step closer, and Viktor backed away immediately, shaking his mother off in one swift motion.**

 _ **"Don't come near me!"**_ **he shouted, his heart pounding in his head. "I don't know a Yuuri who would hurt others! I don't know someone as** ** _disgusting or cruel as you!"_**

 **He ran for it, trying to forget the sight of the blood, trying not to think of Lucía's broken body in his arms, of the blood on his clothes when they dragged him back home, of the cold, empty look in Yuuri's eyes.**

 **It took him a long time to calm down, and he found himself on the streets alone, unsure of where he'd ended up. He slumped against a wall, not caring that he was lost or that he'd have to try to get home soon.**

 **"Lucía," he cried, burying his face in his hands. "I'm so, so sorry, Lucía... I couldn't protect you, I couldn't protect either of you... I'm sorry Lucía, I'm sorry... Yuuri."**

* * *

Yuuri closed his eyes, his hands clutching at Viktor's back as he moved inside him, his mouth at Yuuri's throat.

"Vitya," he moaned as Viktor left another mark just beneath his Adam's apple, his teeth nipping at the skin.

"Louder," Vitya grunted, his voice thick with desire and possessiveness. "Louder, Yura, I want to hear you."

"Ah- _wait!"_ he cried. Vitya bit the side of his neck almost ruthlessly, holding him in place as he thrust into him, their hands entwined together on the mattress.

 _He's acting strange,_ Yuuri thought vaguely, but he forgot a moment later as their lips met, sharing the same breath, crying into each other's mouths as Viktor's movements became shallower, faster.

"Call my name, Yura," he groaned, almost begging. "Call me, _please!"_

He was reaching his climax, Yuuri could feel it as his own mind went blank, as his muscles tightened in his belly.

 _"Vitya!"_ He cried as he came all over his stomach, his fingernails digging into Viktor's shoulders. Viktor buried his face into Yuuri's neck and almost _screamed_ with pleasure as he followed suit, his body trembling over Yuuri's.

There was the sound of heavy breathing for several minutes, and then Viktor changed his position so that he was lying next to his husband and pulling him into his arms.

"Sorry," he whispered into his hair. "I didn't mean to be rough."

Yuuri scoffed, still short of breath. "That was supposed to be _rough?"_

"It was rough for me," Vitya said simply, pressing his nose to Yuuri's hairline. "I forgot to tell you I loved you."

"You're so dramatic," Yuuri laughed slightly. "How does that make it any different?"

"It does," Vitya insisted, kissing his forehead. "I want you to know how much you are loved."

"Words don't mean anything."

"Neither does sex," he said, holding Yuuri's waist. "But I want you to know with whatever means I have at my disposal. If sex and telling you that I love you is what it takes, then I'll use them as many times as I have to." He kissed his nose. "I love you, Yuuri."

"You're a hopeless, flattering, romantic," Yuuri said, but he didn't say that the words made him feel warm, or that they swept the anxieties in his heart aside, if only for a little while.

Because he knew they would be back, and he didn't want to admit to himself that he wished they wouldn't, that he just wanted to stay in Viktor's arms like this forever and hear their hearts beating together for eternity.

He didn't say it, because he knew that in the end, that was a dream, a childish, silly, fantasy that had nothing to do with the true nature of their relationship. He knew that words were just words, and no matter how many times Viktor repeated them, he would never mean them.

But he wanted to believe it was true. He wanted that more than anything.

* * *

 **Notes:**

I am once again reminded that I am not suited to writing porn gdi. But TAKE IT ANYWAY, before I regret posting it.

Starting March 3rd, I'll be going on hiatus. This is because Zelda: BotW is coming out and I'm not delusional enough to think I'm not going to be glued to my television screen for at LEAST 300 hours. However, I'm releasing chapter 15 in the next day or two, and that will mark the exact halfway point in the story, and the end of Volume 1. Which means that once I'm back from Hyrule, I can start compiling and editing for the physical release. The pre-order post will probably go up soon after, so keep an eye out on my twitter (Okaeri_Kairi) or tumblr (limitofquestions) in the next few weeks! I'll be back with Chapter 16 once that's all sorted, though I'm still doing monthly requests for my patrons in March.


	15. Fukuoka

**The words burned. They tore through him like fire in his veins, like knives on his skin.**

 _ **"I don't know someone as disgusting or cruel as you!"**_

 **He felt weak, dizzy. He suddenly couldn't get enough oxygen, his blood pounding painfully in his ears.**

 _ **How?! Why does he know?!**_

 **It didn't make sense, it shouldn't have been that easy to tell; Yuuri had spent** ** _years_** **learning how to hide his scars, both physical and mental. It had been harder, recently, but he was confident that he could pass it off for stress or tiredness if he tried hard enough. Vitya shouldn't have been able to notice in just one look. He shouldn't have been able to see the darkness in Yuuri's soul at a glance.**

 _ **"Vitya! Viktor Mikhailovich, come back here!"**_ **he heard Katerina yell suddenly. Yuuri blinked and realized that Viktor must have run out of the house; Katerina was standing at the open doorway, looking angry and worried all at once. "That little bastard, he certainly doesn't take after** ** _me!"_** **she growled when he didn't come back. She slammed the door and wiped her hands furiously on her apron before turning to Yuuri, her expression softening.**

 **"Oh no,** ** _pryanichek,_** **are you okay?" she asked, reaching in to clean the bloodstains from his face and neck. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think he would act like that. He just went through something terrible in America, okay? He didn't mean it. And if he did, I'll make sure he apologizes for it," she added in an undertone. Yuuri let her rub the blood off, his stomach hurting. Katerina was the only person in the world who he didn't mind being touched by, but he still felt guilty every time she came too close. She was always warm and smiling, always trying to make him smile too, but he was afraid she would find out the truth and hate him. Or worse, blame herself.**

 **"It's fine," Yuuri lied, avoiding her piercing blue eyes.**

 **"It isn't," she insisted, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it from him. "I'll go burn this, so go upstairs and change for dinner. Don't take what he said to heart, Yuratchka. Vitya is just... maybe he's not cut out for life in the** ** _bratva,_** **" she sighed. "We all kill in this business, that soft, naive boy..." She shook her head and ruffled Yuuri's hair gently. "Wash up, dinner is in thirty minutes," she said, leaning down to kiss his forehead.**

 **Yuuri watched her go back to the kitchen for a moment.**

 _ **It's cold,**_ **he thought blankly, turning to the staircase and hugging himself as he climbed to the second floor. The middle of winter in St. Petersburg was never a good time to walk around in only one shirt, much less without one at all. Even with central heating, the Nikiforov home always managed to feel cold, and Yuuri was relieved when he got to his bathroom and turned the hot water on in his shower. Steam billowed through the room, the sound of the water filling the tub echoing loudly.**

 **Yuuri stared at the wall for a while before remembering he was supposed to be cleaning up. Wincing slightly, he bent to remove the rest of his clothes and tossed them into the bin for burning. Clothes in a mafia household were constantly being disposed of; professionals never left any evidence behind, no matter how inconsequential. Katerina, as a former hitwoman, was especially thorough about this. Her kill count far exceeded her husband's, after all.**

 _ **I wonder, how many people have I killed now?**_

 **He looked down at his hands. There was blood congealing under his fingernails, and there were some dried stains on his wrists, just over the chafed bruises Nikita had left. He couldn't remember who the first one was, or if he could even properly distinguish his own kills from Nikita's. Surely some of the people they had tortured and left bleeding over the years had died before the police found them? Surely there were people who had died of complications in the hospital? Yuuri hadn't "officially" killed anyone until he turned 16, but he wasn't an idiot; he knew that the things he'd been practicing under Nikita's tutelage were maiming and killing people, and he had long since accepted that as normal.**

 **No, it was far more than that; he had long since learned to** ** _enjoy_** **it, to feel accomplished at the end of a work day, to feel useful when he came home covered in gore. When his parents asked him if he felt overwhelmed, if Nikita was pushing him too hard, he always shook his head and truthfully said he was perfectly at ease with his job. Despite only being a** ** _shetsyorka,_** **many of the underlings in the Security Group were** ** _afraid_** **of him, terrified of the demonic** ** _yaposhka_** **that Nikita unleashed on anyone who betrayed or failed the** ** _bratva._** **Mikhail had been pleased to hear this, to hear that his son was gaining respect amongst the Russians quickly and through his own hard work.**

 **But there were times when even Mikhail looked like he had doubts about the life he was encouraging for Yuuri. Whenever Yuuri saw that look in his father's eyes, he resolved to hide his insecurities and pain more thoroughly; he couldn't stand either of his parents pitying him, not when he was the one responsible for his own suffering.**

 _ **"I don't know someone as disgusting or cruel as you!"**_

 **He wasn't sure when, but he suddenly found himself with his back to the bathroom door, his knees weak. He slid to the cold floor almost listlessly, a ragdoll who had been flung against a wall.**

 _ **It's not new,**_ **he told himself, trying to hold on to a shred of his sanity.** ** _You've known this for years, you've known that you're broken and ugly. Just because he saw you... just because he saw through you... it doesn't change anything. It changes NOTHING._**

 **But tears still splashed down onto his thighs, and his sobs still caught in his throat as he raised his hands to his face, trying to hide from his broken heart, trying to hide from the world.**

 **He'd always had hope, a small, tiny spark somewhere deep inside, that meeting Viktor again would somehow make things better. He wasn't sure what he'd wanted from his brother, exactly; perhaps he just wanted that feeling of safety he'd always equated to Vitya's presence, or someone to hold his hand and wipe his tears and tell him everything would be alright. He'd been terrified of contaminating him, but he'd never expected Viktor to take one look at him and run.**

 **I** **t hurt. Viktor had promised to be at his side, had promised to protect him since they were little boys, and even when they were apart, even while Viktor grew up and started to focus on his own life, Yuuri had always assumed that he would someday return and resume his place at Yuuri's side. They were brothers, partners. They would become each other's support until they died, a** ** _pakhan_** **and his** ** _sovietnik_** **bound together for life.**

 **That was what Yuuri had always hoped, but now, after having been rejected so violently, so thoroughly, he wasn't sure he could ever trust Vitya's words again.**

* * *

"Well?" Mari asked as she joined them outside the inn gate.

Alyosha laughed aloud, only to be smacked by Roma a second later.

"Ow!" he cried. "What was that for?!"

"Don't be rude," Roma hissed.

"I'm not being rude! Er... am I?" Alexei turned to look for confirmation from Petya, who was clearly trying to hold in his own laugh.

"Oh, uh, I dunno," the older man said, his face twitching.

"Enough," Viktor said sharply. "You'll show your respect or you'll regret it." His men immediately straightened up, and Yuuri grinned slightly as he turned his eyes back to his sister.

"You look nothing like a Russian, Mari," he said bluntly. Mari groaned, pulling at her mousy brown hair. Even while dressed in a suit and without her piercings, her hair lank, she still looked fully Japanese, though a slightly odd one.

"I knew I should have gone with blonde," she muttered mutinously as she tugged at her sleeves.

"It would have been worse," Yuuri shrugged. "I don't think passing off as Mila is going to work."

"Hmph," I can't help looking like myself," she said as she adjusted her jacket. Whether or not I can pass as your _obshchak_ won't stop me from tagging along though," she insisted fiercely.

"Fine, then Antosha can play Mila, and you can act as hired muscle."

"It's a bad idea, Yuuri," Viktor said, biting his lip. "She'll be recognized..."

"Maybe if she wears glasses?" Petya suggested.

"Great idea! Yuuri, hand 'em over," she said, holding out her hand impatiently.

"I'm not giving you my glasses, sister," he frowned.

"Oh don't be such a child, you have contacts," she said _._ "Come on."

"Even if I _do_ have contacts, my glasses are prescription; you'll be blind as a bat. And I don't let people use my things."

"Quit being stubborn," she huffed, reaching out to take the frames. His hand shot up immediately to grab her wrist, careful to only touch the sleeve.

"I said _no,"_ he said coldly, glaring up at her. She hesitated but in the end she gave in.

"Fine," she said, grudgingly pulling her hand away. "I'll just wear sunglasses or something."

"They'll notice when you go inside," Viktor warned.

"Look, we have an appointment," Mari snapped. "Enough fussing, let's just get the damn thing over with."

"On that, we can agree," Yuuri said. He gestured slightly with his chin and Alyosha came forward with a small earpiece.

"Here, _Ane-ue,_ " he said, smiling in his off-putting way. "If for whatever reason you need to speak Russian, or call for backup, you can use this. I'll be listening on my end."

"For some reason that doesn't make me feel any safer," she said in Japanese, and Yuuri laughed.

"He's many things, but he's the most dependable informant you could ask for. Just ignore the quirks."

Behind them, Roma was having a small argument with Vitya and Pyotr.

"I still think I should come, commander," Roma grunted. "Petya is useless in a crisis."

"Orders are orders," Viktor said sternly.

"But in a fight, he's not much of an opponent-"

"I'm a _bodyguard_ , you dimwit," Pyotr sighed exasperatedly. "This is _exactly_ what I'm built for."

"Yeah, but you're a shitty killer."

"I'm a shitty _assassin,_ not a shitty killer. I'm actually _trained_ to fight, unlike _some_ of us," Petya said, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. "And there's no need to start pulling out the playground insults, just because you're jealous at being left behind... though they _do_ fit you pretty well."

 _"You fucking bastard-!"_

"Enough," Yuuri said, a warning note in his voice. He wasn't in the mood to listen to pointless arguments. "Roma, you're staying behind with Alyosha and that's final. Everyone else, we're leaving. _Now._ "

He snapped his fingers, and like a well-trained dog, Viktor stepped forward to open the car door for him.

* * *

 **Viktor eventually found his way home a few hours later. It was dark by then, but he was still welcomed by the sound of Makkachin's happy barking when he pushed the front door open.**

 **"Hey Makka," he said, scratching the dog behind the ears. "Shh, you'll bother everyone," he scolded when he continued to bark joyously.**

 **"So, you're back."**

 **He looked up to find his mother leaning against the doorway to the parlor, a particularly nasty looking assault rifle slung over her shoulder. Her eyes were icy cold.**

 **"I was just about to go searching for you," she said, arms crossed.**

 **"With a** ** _rifle?"_** **he asked, trying to laugh but sounding more than a little intimidated.**

 **"The streets are dangerous at night," she shrugged. "But I wouldn't waste bullets on muggers and rapists. I can deal with** ** _them_** **just fine. This was for you, just in case you didn't cooperate."**

 **"...Mother, has anyone ever told you that you're a little ridiculous?" he asked drily.**

 **"Yes they have," she replied. "And they're all dead."**

 **They stared at each other for a moment, the silence thick with tension.**

 **"Well? Are you going to shoot me or not,** ** _Mama?"_** **Viktor finally asked, the fight going out of him. He was tired, tired of living and tired of the world he'd been born into. He wasn't made for it, no matter whose son he was, and he knew it. If his parents were going to force him to continue working for the** ** _bratva,_** **Vitya preferred to die.**

 **Katerina sighed. "Of course I'm not going to shoot you, you idiot," she said grudgingly. "The gun really was for shooting anyone who might assault you. You're far too pretty to wander out in the streets by yourself without a weapon. What kind of mother do you think I am?!"**

 **"The kind who can tell her son that she's planning to shoot him with a straight face," Viktor said, leaning down to pick Makkachin up.**

 **"I** ** _would_** **shoot you, if I thought you deserved it," she admitted. "But never to kill."**

 **"So you don't think I deserve it...?"**

 **"You deserve** ** _something,_** **Vitenka, especially for saying what you said to Yuratchka today, but I'm not angry enough to act on it just now." Her expression changed, became worried as she came forward. "That reaction this afternoon wasn't normal, Vitya. Are you alright?"**

 **He closed his eyes, letting her brush the hair from his face.**

 **"I don't know," he said truthfully as Makkachin licked his hands. "I'm... I'm just tired,** ** _Mama..."_**

 **"I only know about what happened from what Lena told me," she said. "The family you were living with... they must have been important to you."**

 **He sniffled, remembering Nicole's equally kind reassurances whenever he was having a bad day.**

 **"They were. I loved them."**

 **"I see... Would you like to talk about it?" she asked, holding out her hand. Suddenly Viktor was four years old again, crying in the park because his best friend didn't want to play with him anymore. Katerina had rushed over and picked him up as soon as she heard his voice, asking if he'd been hurt, if there was someone who she needed to fight. '** ** _Would you like to talk about it?'_** **she'd finally asked when she realized he was crying of sadness, not pain.**

 **He nodded, feeling small, feeling helpless, like a leaf caught in a current as he took her hand and let her lead him to the parlor.**

* * *

Vitya was a little surprised when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out to find a text from Mari.

 _What the-?_ He frowned, looking up to the passenger seat, where Mari was seated next to Antosha, who was driving. Mari's eyes caught his in the mirror and narrowed slightly, glancing down. Thoroughly confused, he opened the chat on his phone.

 _"Don't let Yuuri see this, and don't let him know it's me you're talking to,"_ the message said. He glanced toward his left, were Yuuri was staring out the window, his eyes blank.

 _"Why?"_ he replied.

 _"Because I want to ask you if he's alright."_

He nearly told her to mind her own business, but he was touched by her concern. It was somehow nice to know that Yuuri had another sibling who cared about him, even if she was still more of a stranger than a real sister.

 _"He'll be alright,"_ he typed hesitantly.

 _"Why is he like that?"_

 _"Like what?"_

 _"So defensive; it's like he was afraid I would touch him earlier. And at the airport, he was acting strange..."_

Viktor nearly made a noise of approval. _She's sharper than I gave her credit for._

 _"I can't tell you, Ane-ue. It's personal."_

There was a pause, and then he heard Mari's fingers tapping furiously on her touch screen.

 _"I'm not asking for his life story,"_ she wrote. _"I'm asking what he HAS."_

 _"What he... what?"_

 _"You know, what his condition is? Medically?"_

 _"Oh..."_

Viktor looked up, not sure how to answer her question. Yuuri had never been diagnosed because of his aversion to doctors, but Viktor knew enough to know he was suffering from severe trauma. His panic attacks, his nightmares, his self-hatred, his emotional and physical dependency... he could tell the individual symptoms apart, but he didn't really have an illness to chalk it up to.

In the end, he went with a guess, though he didn't know if it really encompassed the whole of Yuuri's problems.

 _"Separation anxiety,"_ he wrote. _"And don't forget to erase this thread."_

* * *

 _ **"Papa**_ **will see you now," Nikita said as he and Yakov left the office. Vitya hesitated for a moment, and Nikita gave him a small smile. "Don't worry, he's not that angry."**

 **"He was angry earlier," Viktor said, and Nikita chuckled. He was much shorter than Viktor now, but he nevertheless reached up to ruffle his hair, like he had when he'd been a child.**

 **"That's why he's not as angry now.** ** _Davai,_** **Vitya."**

 **He waved and walked off. Viktor watched him go, thinking that Nikita looked a lot more tired and worn than he remembered.**

 _ **Well, I suppose he's getting old,**_ **he thought, and put him out of his mind. He took a deep breath, his hand clutching the handle to his father's office nervously. Mikhail had returned from Staraya in the morning, and like Katerina at the airport, he did not look happy to see his son.**

 **"We'll talk later," he said without so much as a greeting, and he spent the rest of the day locked up in his office, conferencing with Yakov and Nikita, and a few other people Vitya barely remembered.**

 **Katerina had driven Yuuri to school before he woke up, and since Nikita was occupied, she'd taken over his brother's training for the afternoon, which meant Vitya was effectively alone. That was a shame, because speaking with his mother had helped him regain a bit of his composure. They'd spoken long into the night, and though the pain of losing Luci was still raw, he felt a little better after talking about it. Katya had let him cry as much as he wanted, and she didn't interrupt at all except to murmur reassurances into his hair as he wept. He could have used that now, but he would have to face his father alone.**

 **He knocked once.**

 **"Enter," came Mikhail's voice. Vitya swallowed nervously and pushed the door open.**

 **The office hadn't changed a bit since the last time Viktor had been there, but the man seated behind the desk certainly had. It had only been seven years since the last time Vitya had seen his father, but he seemed to have aged by at least two decades; his golden blond hair had begun to turn gray at the roots, and he looked weary, exhausted, his face lined. His brown eyes looked up once Vitya was standing in front of his desk, hands behind his back.**

 **"Viktor," he said simply, his gaze strong, unreadable.**

 **"Good afternoon, Father," Vitya said, the initial nervousness fading. There was nothing to be afraid of, not after what he'd seen.**

 **"Since you haven't been shot, I suppose Katenka took pity on you."**

 **"No, sir. She hit me several times," Viktor replied, his cheek twitching slightly. There was a dark bruise on the side of his face from the vicious slap she'd given him at the airport.**

 **"If she didn't shoot you, she went easy on you," Mikhail said matter-of-factly. "I have more bullet wounds that I can attribute to my own wife than I can blame on my enemies." His eyes glistened a little with amusement; Mikhail and Katerina were a legend among the** ** _bratva._** **The story of how they'd ended up together was a drinking favorite, the sort of story that was actually more ridiculous than any embellished versions could try to be. Though they were constantly complaining about each other, they were inseparable, and still as much in love as they had been when they were young.**

 **Or so they said, but Vitya wasn't sure it was exactly** ** _amusing_** **to have been shot by one's own spouse enough times to be able to brag about it. He got the vague impression that even by the standards of the** ** _bratva,_** **his parents weren't quite normal; his father was definitely a tad too masochistic for that.**

 **"Then you think I should be shot, Father?" Vitya asked evenly.**

 **"Not at all," Mikhail said, surprised. "I was just surprised that Katya didn't do it." His expression became serious again. "Valya told me what happened in New York. Why did you run away?"**

 **"I didn't run," Vitya shrugged. "I quit, and Uncle kicked me out."**

 **"You should know better than to think you can quit the** ** _bratva,_** **Vitya," Mikhail frowned.**

 **"I know. And you can kill me if you want, I don't care. I'm not going to be part of the mafia, no matter what you say, Father."**

 **"It's your** ** _birthright,_** **goddammit!"**

 **"So? It's not like I asked to be born into a family of murderers!"**

 **"You have a responsibility-!"**

 **"No, I don't!" Vitya shouted, getting upset. "I won't kill, I'm not cut out for it. And I'm not stupid, I know that not being able to kill only puts the rest of the men in danger. I don't care if the penalty for leaving is death, I'll pay whatever price to get the hell out of this life."**

 **Mikhail slammed his hands on the table, looking very much like his brother as he stood up angrily.**

 **"Viktor Mikhailovich, I didn't raise you to-!"**

 **"Raise me?!** ** _Raise me?!"_** **Vitya cried, gesturing wildly, too angry and hurt to care that he was being disrespectful. "You haven't raised me for even a** ** _fraction_** **of my life! Mother raised me all by herself for two whole years before you came looking for us, and you hardly noticed me at all since I was** ** _nine fucking years old!_** **It was always 'Yuuri this, Yuratchka that!' I understand why you did it; Yuuri was broken and alone, you wanted to help him get used to his new family. But then you** ** _sent me away! For doing exactly what you asked me to do in the first place! 'Be kind to him, Vitya, be sweet, watch over him, help him if he needs it...'_** **I** ** _loved_** **that boy, I thought I was being a perfect big brother, all so you and Mother could be proud of me and we could all be a family together!** ** _BUT YOU FUCKING SENT ME AWAY! FOR SEVEN YEARS! YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHT TO SAY YOU'VE RAISED ME, YOU GODDAMN HYPOCRITE!"_**

 **Mikhail looked taken aback, staring at his son who was glaring at him with barely concealed fury.**

 **"You know the reason I sent you away-" he began, but Vitya wasn't interested in excuses.**

 **"I was** ** _twelve!_** **I was hardly old enough to be sent away to a completely different country on my own! I tried to be good, I really did, but do you honestly think it didn't hurt me to know my parents were okay with shipping me off? You think it didn't hurt to leave Yuuri behind?! Yuuri, who was so attached to me, who I both loved and resented for coming into my life?! And** ** _for what?!_** **Have you** ** _seen_** **your son, Father?! Haven't you realized that that... that** ** _thing,_** **isn't Yuuri anymore?!"**

 **"Viktor-!"**

 **"** ** _No!_** **You let Yuuri become cold and** ** _wrong!_** **You sent me away so you could turn him into a murderer, so you could turn us** ** _both_** **into killers! FOR WHAT?! WHAT KIND OF FATHER WANTS THEIR SONS TO GO INTO A CURSED LIFE LIKE THIS?!" He hit the desk with his fist, angry tears dripping onto the wood.** ** _"I don't want anything to do with this life, I'd rather die now than be forced to go back!"_**

 **There was a long, empty silence, filled only by the sound of Vitya's hiccuping and sniffling.**

 **"I heard..." Mikhail finally said, his voice oddly quiet. "I heard that you tried to kill yourself in New York. I didn't want to believe that was true, I didn't think my Vitya could ever hate life enough for that..."**

 **He fell back into his chair, covering his face with his hand.**

 **"You were always so vibrant, so eager and happy. You were so smart, and talented... and you had Katya's penchant for mischievousness. I thought you'd be like her, finding your calling in our family... "**

 **"I'm not Mother," Viktor said, choking slightly on his tears. "I'm** ** _me."_**

 **"I see that now," Mikhail said evenly. "The thing about this life, Viktor, is that it's easy to forget it isn't the norm. You become desensitized. Some of us are easily adapted, but many of us die in our youth because they hesitate, because they're afraid or have doubts or lack the skill or luck to get by. I just... never thought my son would be one of them."**

 **"What a disappointment I must be," he said spitefully.**

 **"No, you're not."**

 **Vitya blinked, nonplussed.**

 **"Huh?"**

 **"As** ** _pakhan,_** **yes, I'm a little disappointed," Mikhail said. "But you're right, Vitya. I've been a poor parent, and I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean much, but... if I could, I'd go back and keep you in Russia. Both of you; I don't love Yuuri more or less than I love you, I just don't know how to address his needs, so I've been paying more attention to him. That was unfair of me, as a father. You don't have to forgive me, but, at the very least, I won't force you to come back."**

 **"You... won't?"**

 **"No. If you want to leave the house, I won't stop you either. But you're welcome to stay, even if you don't want to be involved in the** ** _bratva."_**

 **"R-Really?"**

 **Mikhail smiled sadly. "What, did you think your Father was** ** _that_** **cold? I'm not going to kick my son out in the middle of winter, and even if I** ** _did,_** **Katya would murder me."**

 **Vitya was so caught off guard that he said the first thing that came to mind.**

 **"Father... forgive me for saying this, but as they say in America, I think you're whipped."**

 **His father gave a small chuckle. "That's a truth I accepted long ago, even if you are a cheeky little brat for saying it."**

 **"I'll find a job, at least. I don't want to be a burden..."**

 **"Do as you please," Mikhail shrugged. Vitya turned to leave, but a moment later his father spoke again. "We really did miss you, Vitya. And we were worried about you. I'm sorry we're not the type of family that knows how to show that."**

 **"Mm, that's alright," Viktor said. "I'm sorry for not being the son you wanted."**

 **"Don't be an idiot. I wanted you from the minute I heard you existed. Why do you think I brought you home?"**

 **"I assume because Mother threatened you."**

 **"Hah! I chased your mother down through four cities for you both. Don't think I didn't."**

 **"Somehow that part of the story always gets left out," Vitya grinned as he opened the door.**

 **"Katenka likes to tell the version where we meet again by accident; she lives for drama."**

* * *

 **"Don't forget, you don't want to cut any major arteries for this technique."**

 **Yuuri nodded, shifting the scalpel a little further up the victim's wrist. The screams were heavenly, and Yuuri particularly enjoyed the begging as he slowly carved one letter into the skin at a time. It was a simple enough procedure; punishment for a** ** _vor_** **who had tried to leave the** ** _bratva_** **and needed to be taught a lesson, but Yuuri relished his work no matter how small it was. These were the moments when he could forget his own pain and focus on someone else's, the moments of bliss in a life full of nightmares, even if many of those nightmares were fueled by his own self-disgust when he came back to his senses.**

 **The screams stopped suddenly, and Yuuri realized that the** ** _vor_** **had fainted.**

 **"Tsk, there's no courage in these new recruits," Nikita said, as he examined the man's pulse. "It isn't even a particularly terrible punishment, it was only his first offense..."**

 **"Hmm," Yuuri replied, examining his own handiwork. The word 'traitor' stood out in blood on the man's skin, and Yuuri would have liked to lick it if the** ** _vor_** **were awake; saliva stung like hell on open wounds.**

 **"Nicely done," Nikita said, leaning in to take the scalpel. Yuuri instinctively backed away, his heart suddenly in his throat.**

 ** _Not today, please not today,_** **he prayed frantically. To his relief, Nikita merely took the tool and began to wipe it down with bleach at the worktable.**

 **"There will be a raid next week, and I want you to accompany Antona's brigade," he said calmly.**

 **"Antona's?" Yuuri asked, relaxing enough to take a seat on one of the crates in the corner of the warehouse. "I'm not an assassin, though."**

 **"No, but it's good to get experience in all the brigades from time to time," Nikita said, still working. "You'll be leading them all, so it's important to know how they work."**

 **Yuuri paused, his stomach feeling a bit unsettled.**

 _ **There's no point in being**_ **sovietnik** _**if it isn't for Vitya...**_

 **His hands clung to the wooden boards beneath him as he remembered the words his brother had thrown at him a few days ago. Since that moment, Viktor had done everything to avoid Yuuri; he rarely ate dinner with the family and never came out of his room while Yuuri was home. Their mother had tried to get him to at least apologize, but after speaking to him in private she came to find Yuuri and told him that Vitya needed some time to adjust to everything that had changed while he was gone.**

 **"I know it's hard, and you don't deserve to be treated like this by your brother, but he'll come around soon, okay? I'll make sure of that," she'd said while teaching him how to take a machine gun apart. "He's just overwhelmed because someone he cared about died recently."**

 **Yuuri didn't believe a word of it. He knew, from the moment Viktor turned his blue eyes on him, that he could see the taint on his body and soul, and he knew that Vitya was repelled by it, disgusted by it. No pretty words could change that, and that hurt far more than the fact that he was being avoided.**

 **"Yuratchka? What's wrong?"**

 **He was pulled by his thoughts by Nikita, who was now standing at the edge of the table, looking at him with genuine concern. Yuuri shook his head and was surprised to find that he'd gripped the wood so hard that one of his fingernails had broken.**

 **"It's nothing," he muttered, wincing at the damaged nail. Nikita pulled a bottle of antiseptic from the toolbox and tossed it to him.**

 **"Nothing wouldn't make you hurt yourself like that, Yuuri."**

 **Yuuri poured the liquid on his finger, his emotions catching in his throat.**

 **"I... I think I've done something to Vitya," he said, his voice cracked.**

 **"How so?" Nikita frowned.**

 **"He... he won't even look at me, not since the day he came back..."**

 **He hardly realized he was shaking, the bottle spilling all over the floor. Nikita reached to save the rest, causing Yuuri to nearly topple off the crate in fear. His mentor bit the inside of his cheek, a complicated expression on his face, but he stepped away to give Yuuri space.**

 **"Sorry," he muttered, avoiding his eye. Sometimes Nikita was like this; overly conscious of Yuuri and apologetic every time he did something to make him feel uncomfortable. Those were the days that Yuuri could almost pretend things were back to normal between them, though they never lasted long enough for him to drop his guard completely. "Why would he do that?"**

 **"I... I don't know..." Yuuri said, his voice trembling. "He won't look at me, he won't talk to me, he won't even stay in the same** ** _room_** **with me...!"**

 **"Yuuri, I'm sure there's a rea-"**

 **"I think he knows!" Yuuri wailed suddenly, covering his face with his hands to hide the sobs he was trying to choke back. "He called me disgusting, he said I wasn't the Yuuri he left behind! He knows that they broke me, he knows that I'm dirty and tainted, he** ** _knows, Nikita!"_**

 **Nikita suddenly grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and Yuuri gave an involuntary shriek as his whole body seized up in fear unable to look away from those ice blue eyes.**

 **"Why do you think he knows?!" he asked, almost angrily. "What did you do, Yuuri?! Did you tell him?!"**

 **"N-no!** ** _I would n-never_** **!" Yuuri managed to say, trembling. "He just looked at me, and he said I was disgusting!"**

 **"Are you sure?! You know what will happen if they find out how filthy you are!"**

 **"Y-yes! Of course, I didn't say anything!"**

 **Nikita let him go, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering to himself for a moment.**

 _ **"Calm down,"**_ **he repeated, until finally he turned to face Yuuri again. "You said he's avoiding you?"**

 **Yuuri nodded, hugging himself to try to stop the shaking.**

 **"That's good," Nikita said firmly. "Don't let him get close. If he finds out the truth, more than he already knows, it'll be too late for him."**

 **"B-but..."**

 **"You don't want him to be tainted, do you?" he asked harshly. "You don't want to hurt him?"**

 **"No," Yuuri whispered, staring at the ground.**

 **"Then stay away from Viktor Mikhailovich. And you have to learn to** ** _control_** **yourself better, you understand? He might find out otherwise."**

 **He reached out to take Yuuri's chin, and it was all he could do not to push him away.**

 **"You have to be good, Yuuri. Better than you've been so far. Can you do that?" he asked, his voice lingering in the space between them.**

 **"Y-yes, Nikita," he said, his voice shaking as he reached up to cling to Nikita's arms desperately. "Please...** ** _please,_** **help me. Help me so I don't hurt Vitya... It has to be you... you're the only one who isn't afraid to touch someone as awful as me...** ** _please, Nikita, help me."_**

 **For a moment, a pained look came into Nikita's eyes, but a second later it was replaced by the familiar hunger that Yuuri both hated and craved more than anything.**

 **"Of course, Yuuri... Of course."**

* * *

The car pulled up to an elaborate wooden gate, and Antosha parked just outside it.

"I'm hesitant to leave it here, boss," she said as she stalled the engine for a moment. "They might slash our tires, make it harder for us to get away in an emergency..."

"It'll be worse if we can't get to something to protect us from bullets," Yuuri said as he put out a cigarette on the car's ashtray. "This car is bulletproof, isn't it, Mari?"

"Mhm."

"There you go. Vitya, you know what to do."

"Of course, _zolotse moyo._ " He straightened his jacket and turned toward Yuuri, pulling him forward by the tie and kissing him in front of everyone. "How's that?" he asked with a small smirk as he let go, Yuuri momentarily caught off guard.

"Terrible," he said bluntly, huffing slightly to blow the bangs from his face. "I don't kiss nearly that innocently."

"Mm, fine," Viktor pouted. "I'll do it better next time."

 _And there will definitely be a next time, I promise,_ he thought as he gently squeezed Yuuri's hand. _I'll make sure we make it out alive._

 _"Ahem,_ boss?" Viktor turned to see Petya holding the door open for him, a slightly amused expression on his face.

"Ah, right," he said, turning up the charm as he stepped out of the car. Yuuri got out on the other side and the small group stared up at the gate. "Try not to die, _Ane-ue,_ " he said, feigning cheerfulness as Mari took her place behind him.

"Same to you, Brother-in-law. I won't forgive you if you leave my brother a widow at such a young age."

"Threat duly noted," he replied as he strode toward the gate and the small voice box on the side. He pushed the button and waited for a response.

 _"State your name and business,_ " a harsh voice said in Japanese. Vitya knew just enough of the language to get by.

"Uh, I have an appointment with the Okukawa _kumichou._ Viktor Nikiforov."

There was a pause.

"Wait a minute."

The gate was opened by a man wearing an earpiece and a suit a moment later.

"English?" he asked when he saw Vitya.

"If you don't mind," he said, flashing one of his bright smiles.

"This group is with you?" the man asked suspiciously, eyeing the mix of Russians and Japanese.

"My personal bodyguards while in Japan and one of my right hand men," Viktor said smoothly.

"Fine. The _kumichou_ is waiting for you." He stepped aside, letting them pass. Vitya managed to breathe only once they entered the house and no one stopped them in their tracks.

 _Into the tiger's den, as they say,_ he thought, wishing he could have convinced Yuuri that this was a terrible idea.

He was so nervous that he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, one of the ones he'd confiscated from Yuuri, and lit it as they walked. Even after years of working for the _bratva,_ Vitya never quite got used to what Mari called 'the thrill.' Death was never far from his mind, and he hated killing if he could avoid it.

 _I'm really nothing like my mother, other than in looks,_ he thought as another underling came to greet them at the entrance hall.

"Welcome," he said, bowing slightly. "The _kumichou_ is waiting for you," he repeated. Vitya took a drag from the cigarette and had to stop himself from coughing.

"Thanks," he muttered, knowing that Yuuri's eyes were probably bright with laughter behind him.

They were led down a hall, not unlike the ones at Mari's inn, lined with tatami and the occasional screen door. After a few minutes they reached a door papered with the image of spider lilies, and the underling knocked on the frame.

"Mr. Nikiforov to see you, ma'am."

"Let him in." Came the reply. Viktor took a deep breath as the door was opened, and the small group walked in.

He had about a minute to notice he was in some kind of parlor when a series of clicks went off and they found themselves surrounded by a group of people who were all pointing guns at them.

"What is this?!" He asked angrily, trying to remain calm. He was mentally berating himself for not having smelled the trap, and behind him the others looked like they had been too late to pull out their own weapons, except for Antona, whose gun was pointed directly ahead at a person in the shadows.

"Tell your man to put down his weapon, Nikiforov," a cold voice said.

"Tell _your_ men to put down _their_ weapons, Okukawa Minako," Antona said, narrowing her eyes. "Unless you'd like to be killed first."

"Your group will be full of holes before you can hope to shoot me," the voice scoffed, and a woman stepped forward, arms crossed. She had long brown hair and eyes the same shade as Yuuri's, but her lips were painted blood red and her green _yukata_ was pushed down on her shoulders, showing a series of elaborate tattoos that stretched down her arms and presumably down her back. Like Mari often did, she was carrying a lacquered sword, tapping it against her shoulder lazily. "Besides, we don't care about you _rosuke._ We just want the woman."

"Touch her and your boss dies!" Antona barked, shooting a warning shot an inch from Minako's face. The man who had stepped forward to grab Mari immediately backed away.

 _How do we keep getting into these bloody standoffs?!_ Viktor thought, his hand twitching as he tried to figure out the best way to get everyone out alive.

"I'll tell you one more time, _rosuke,"_ Minako hissed. _"Put down your weapon, or you will all die."_

Vitya couldn't risk it. _Sorry, Ane-ue..._ he thought, glancing back at her. Her teeth were set, and she nodded at him. Yuuri gave them both an angry glare, but didn't say anything.

"Put the gun down, Antona. That's an order."

She hesitated, glancing at Yuuri; he knew she was quickly calculating the best scenario to get the _pakhan_ out to safety, but in the end she did as he asked and dropped her gun to the floor.

Minako immediately snapped her fingers and a pair of her men grabbed Mari by the hair and arms, pulling her forward.

 _"Ugh! Let go!"_ she snarled, but they pulled her head back sharply and forced her to her knees in front of their boss.

"So, you thought you'd just waltz right in and no one would recognize you, Katsuki?" Minako asked, pulling a gun from her sleeve and pressing it to Mari's chin, using it to turn her face sharply. "And if you think this is a disguise, you must be even stupider than I thought," she smirked, giving the dyed hair a tug.

"Fuck you," Mari hissed, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, playing dumb, are we?" Minako laughed coldly. "Strip her," she ordered suddenly, and one of the men violently tore Mari's jacket and shirt from her shoulders, baring the skin on her back and chest.

 _"Agh!"_ she cried. A series of tattoos like Minako's stood out in the dim light, a pattern of blue-green swirls and pink flowers that hid the paleness of her skin.

"The Katsuki _sakura,_ " Minako said. "You really are an idiot, thinking you can hide your identity like this, when every leader of the Katsuki clan has used the same five-pointed _sakura_ on their _irezumi_ for the past few hundred years. Not that we needed to see it to know the truth; one look at your ugly bitch face was enough for our security to warn us you were here."

"Let me go, you fucking _bitch_ ," Mari said, spitting up into Minako's face. There was a pause, and then Minako slammed the butt of her gun so hard into Mari's face that it cracked.

" _Mari!"_ Viktor shouted, forgetting her honorific. He saw Yuuri take a small step forward, his eyes glowing with anger and hatred.

"Don't," Mari growled clearly, not taking her own glowering eyes off Minako. "We're here for information, not a bloodbath."

"I don't have information to share with the filthy daughter of a _dog,"_ Minako said, grabbing Mari by the hair. "Your father and your mother _disgraced_ us, they _ruined_ my sister, you bloody whore!"

"Okukawa Yumi didn't leave your family because of my mother!" Mari returned, still struggling to free herself. "She left because you bastards were using her like a bartering chip!"

"You _SHUT UP!"_ Minako shouted, smashing the butt of her gun into Mari's temple. Viktor saw blood when her face was turned in his direction.

 _Fuck, she's gonna get killed!_

 _"What the FUCK do you know about my sister, you little bastard?! Don't you DARE speak her name with your pig's tongue!"_

Viktor felt something move beside him, and he reached out to grab Yuuri's wrist.

 _"Don't!"_ he hissed, "You remember what Liuxian said! Even if you reveal yourself, it might only make things worse!"

"I'm not letting my sister die for me," Yuuri said furiously, shaking him off. "I'm not letting any more Katsuki blood be spilt."

"I don't have anything to do with my parents' choices!" Mari snarled in return. "I've done nothing to you or your group, so let me go before you give my men reason to go to war, you bitch!"

"I'll kill you first!" She slammed the gun to Mari's temple but was stopped by the sound of a shot. Everyone turned to stare at Yuuri, who had managed to get his gun out while everyone was watching the fight between the two _kumichou._ He'd fired up into the air, but it was enough to divert Minako's attention, now that the gun was pointed at her.

"Let Mari go," he said coldly.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?!" Minako asked, clearly furious.

"You don't recognize me, Okukawa Minako?" he asked tilting his head slightly. "Well, I suppose its more obvious without the glasses." He pulled the frames off with his other hand and smoothed back his hair, staring in Minako's direction pointedly.

"Yu... _Yumi?!"_ she asked, incredulous.

"No. Yumi was my mother," he said, not taking the gun off her. "She was the one who gave me the name Yuuri."

* * *

 **"Are you sure you don't want to stay?"**

 **Katerina looked at him in the mirror with a pointed look as Mikhail turned onto the highway.**

 **Vitya avoided her eyes.**

 **"It's awkward, being home alone with just Yuuri..."**

 **"You haven't spoken in almost a month, isn't it about time you apologized?"**

 **"It's not that I don't want to..." Viktor said, looking down at his hands. "It's just... hard. I feel awful for what I said, and he won't let me bring it up. He always runs away as soon as I walk into a room."**

 **"Well, you deserve it, if you ask me," Mikhail said. "You have no idea how much Yuuri's been missing you. He used to ask after you multiple times a day. He memorized the time difference and was always waiting next to the phone for you to call during the holidays. It must have hurt to have you call him disgusting as soon as you got home."**

 **"Misha," Katerina hissed, slapping her husband's shoulder.**

 **"What?" he asked, genuinely perplexed. "It's true!"**

 **"Of course it's true, but have a** ** _little_** **tact, would you?!"**

 **"Ugh," Viktor groaned aloud, letting his head fall back on the seat cushion. "Why am I such a coward, mom?"**

 **"I wouldn't call it** ** _cowardice..."_**

 **"If Yuuri hadn't had school, he would have come on this trip and I would have been the one housesitting," he pointed out. "And if that wasn't an option, I probably would have figured out some other way to avoid him... I wish someone would just slap some courage into me."**

 **Katerina glanced at him in the mirror again.**

 **"Fine. Misha, pull over."**

 **"Eh? We have a flight to catch, Katya-"**

 _ **"Pull over.**_ **I have mothering to do." She didn't elaborate and Misha did as she asked. As soon as they stopped, she threw the door open and marched to Vitya's door. "Out," she ordered. He stared up at her, a silver haired terror with death in her eyes.**

 **"I suddenly understand why they called you the** ** _Silver Devil, mama,"_** **he said, blinking stupidly.**

 **"I said,** ** _out."_**

 **He scrambled to obey. She locked the door, closed it, and went back to her own seat.**

 **"You walk your precious little Russian ass back home, and you better have made up with your brother by the time we get back from Norway."**

 **"Y-** ** _You're gonna leave me here?!"_**

 **"You're young, you'll manage," she said, clicking her tongue. She pulled her sunglasses on and flashed him a small smile. "Oh, and don't set fire to the house," she said in a completely different tone. She turned to her husband. "Misha, drive."**

 **Viktor watched with disbelief as they drove away, leaving him in the middle of the road.**

 _ **"WHAT HAPPENED TO TACT, MOM?!"**_ **he shouted, but they were long gone and Vitya grumbled as he stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to return the last few miles home.**

 **He got lost in town for a while, but eventually he found his way back onto their street, though it was about two hours later when he finally made it back to the house. Nikita's car was in the driveway, which probably meant he'd just dropped Yuuri off after school. Vitya sighed, trying to think of the best way to talk to his little brother.**

 **He put the key in the lock and was surprised to find that Makkachin didn't come running to greet him, but then he remembered that he'd been packed into his parents' car and forgotten to get him out before they drove off.**

 _ **Damn,**_ **he thought, texting his mother to remind her to let Makka out. He pushed the door open and walked into the house, expecting to find Nikita and Yuuri in the kitchen, or in the parlor.**

 **No one was there. He frowned.**

 **"Yuuri?" he called, but no one replied.**

 _ **Bathroom, maybe?**_ **he thought, heading for the staircase. Halfway up he heard a strange sound, like a thud against a wall. The guest bathroom was open, and when Vitya looked out the window, he could still see Nikita's car in the driveway.**

 _ **What the hell?**_

 **There was another odd sound from the direction of Yuuri's bedroom, and he wondered if maybe they were getting clothes ready for a raid or something. He was going to ignore it and head to his own room when he heard a different sound, like someone crying, but muffled.**

 _ **Yuuri?!**_ **he thought, an uneasy feeling building in the pit of his stomach. He made his way to the door silently, listening hard. There was definitely the sound of someone crying... no, they were** ** _screaming,_** **as if into a pillow, and that was all Viktor needed to push the door open a crack.**

 **For the rest of his life, Viktor would never forget the scene he walked in on. Yuuri had been tied up, his hands behind his back, completely naked and face first on the bed. There were tears streaming down his face, a cloth tied over his mouth to muffle his screaming, Behind him, Nikita was fucking into him ruthlessly, pulling Yuuri's hair so hard it looked like it might come off.**

 **Vitya felt as though the world was tilting beneath his feet, and he wasn't sure what to do or feel. Neither Nikita or Yuuri had noticed him, and for almost an entire minute he was transfixed at the door with absolute horror and disgust. He almost vomited; and then the sound of Yuuri's cries reached him again, and he remembered Lucía, remembered how he'd been powerless to help her.**

 **But he could still save Yuuri.**

 **"You fucking** ** _bastard!"_** **He shouted, kicking the door open and launching himself at Nikita, anger clouding his judgement, fury boiling in his veins. Nikita was older and stronger, he had more muscle, but Vitya was taller and had surprise on his side, and the two men crashed to the ground in a sudden, furious fight. All of Vitya's martial arts training was forgotten as he tried to strangle Nikita, tried to gouge his eyes out with his bare fingers, tried to smash his head against the floor and break** ** _something, anything._**

 **A sudden blow to his sternum knocked the wind out of him, leaving him coughing and hacking on all fours, and then he was suddenly kicked aside and into the bedside table, knocking a vase to the floor.**

 **"Shit,** ** _why are you here, Viktor?!"_** **Nikita demanded, his eyes dangerous and wild. But Vitya didn't reply, he merely gathered his strength and lunged forward for another attack, using his low position to knock Nikita down with him.**

 _ **"How fucking dare you?!"**_ **he screamed, seeing red, wanting to maim, wanting to** ** _kill. "Father trusted you! We all trusted you, you disgusting fucking piece of shit!"_**

 **Nikita grabbed him by the hair and Viktor shouted in pain as he was punched across the face so hard that he tasted blood.**

 **Yuuri was crying and screaming in the background, his voice still muffled by the gag. Viktor searched frantically for something,** ** _anything,_** **he could use as a weapon, and his hand closed around something cold and sharp.**

 **He didn't question it. He didn't think about what he was doing. All that mattered was getting this man, this** ** _monster,_** **away from Yuuri, all that mattered was making sure he would never** ** _ever_** **touch him again.**

 **With the strength born of his years in training, he raised the piece of glass and aimed for Nikita's throat, making sure to puncture the side of his neck the way he'd been told. A horrible gurgled sound echoed faintly in his ears, and he thought Nikita might have hit him once or twice, but then he pulled the glass out and did the same thing on the other side. Eventually he forgot what to aim for, he just continued to stab and slice in desperation, tears mingling with blood as he shouted in fear and anger, thinking about Luci bleeding out in his arms, about the girl in the shop, the boy at the raid.**

 **He wasn't sure how long it was before he came back to his senses, but when he did, Nikita was lying dead underneath him, eyes glassy and blank, his neck and chest a mutilated collection of deep, red blood.**

 _ **I... I killed him...**_ **he realized, his hand shaking as he opened his palm and let the bloodied shard fall to the ground. His hand was completely sliced open, but he couldn't feel the pain at all.** ** _I... I killed someone... I'm a murderer... I... no... I had to, I had to!_**

 **He clutched his hands to his face, crying and staining his silver hair red. "I'm so sorry, I had to!" he cried aloud. "I had to,** ** _I had to save them! I have to save Luci, I have to save Yuuri!"_**

 **And then he remembered his brother, and he suddenly snapped his head around to see where he'd gone. He was still tied up, still gagged, but he'd somehow gotten his back to the wall, his eyes wide and frantic, his face completely red and covered in tears.** ** _"_**

 **"Yuuri," Vitya said shakily, trying to stand and losing his balance. He grabbed onto the mattress for support, determined to get to Yuuri before he broke down. He reached to untie the gag, and felt his heart break as Yuuri shrunk away from him, crying loudly. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," he said, his hands trembling as he reached to undo the knot. Yuuri was still trying to get away, but Vitya got it off before he succeeded.**

 **"NO!" He cried, his voice worn with use.** ** _"Don't touch me! Don't look!"_** **he shouted frantically, his eyes tearing up.**

 **"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," Vitya sobbed. "But I have to get the rope off, I have to get it off, please! I promise I won't touch you after!"**

 **"No! NOO!"**

 **He hated having to do this, having to ignore Yuuri's pleas, but he couldn't leave him tied up. When the rope finally came off, he tore off his sweater and pulled it on over Yuuri's small frame. He was so much smaller than Vitya that it covered him down to his knees. As soon as it was on, Viktor let go, shaking. Yuuri was breathing hard, hugging himself and muttering in what Vitya recognized as Japanese. His eyes were unfocused, staring at the bloodied corpse of Nikita on his floor.**

 **"Why...?" He finally asked, turning to Vitya with an expression of such pain that it was impossible not to feel his stomach hurt in response. "Why did you kill him, Vitya?!"**

 **It wasn't the question he expected.**

 **"Wh-what do you mean, why?!" he cried, completely confused. "He was... he was** ** _touching_** **you!"**

 **"But he had to!" Yuuri wailed, burying his face in his knees. "I was the one who broke him, I was the one who tempted him! It wasn't his fault! If he didn't touch me, I would have hurt other people too! I had to be good, he was helping me protect you!"**

 **The words were so twisted and nonsensical that it took Vitya a moment to understand what Yuuri was getting at. And when he did, it was like his blood froze in his veins.**

 _ **This... This is...!**_

 _ **"How long has this been going on?!"**_ **He asked, grabbing Yuuri by the shoulders in fear of the answer. Yuuri cried again and pushed him away.**

 _ **"D...Don't touch me!"**_ **he wailed again, curling in on himself defensively. "I'll taint you, I don't want to hurt you!** ** _Nikita! Nikita, help me!"_**

 **It was all the answer Viktor needed. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his mind whirling.**

 _ **Dear God, please... please forgive me. This is my fault, this is my fault for leaving, for never calling him or listening to his fears and worries.**_

 **He didn't have any words to ask for forgiveness with. Words meant nothing. They had the power to hurt and maim, but they couldn't save someone. They couldn't save** ** _anyone._** **Not from bullets, not from loneliness, not from poisonous lies.**

 **But words were all Viktor had.**

 **"Yuuri, I'll never leave you again," he said, voice thick with tears, tugging at the sweater Yuuri was wearing, not wanting to frighten him by hugging him like he wanted to. "I promise, I** ** _swear_** **it, I'll never, ever let you go."**

 **There was no turning back now.**

* * *

"Yu- _Yuuri?! Katsuki Yuuri?!_ Impossible!" Minako shouted. "Yuuri died with the rest of the Katsukis, nearly twenty years ago!"

"Yet here I am," he said, keeping his face deliberately blank. In truth, he was furious; he hadn't felt this protective of anyone other than Viktor in a long time, but watching Mari be hit had sparked a cold, icy hatred in the pit of his stomach. "And I promise you I'm not a ghost, _Oba-san."_

"They found your body," she snarled angrily.

"They found _a_ body," he corrected. "It belonged to one Ji Qigang, who was unlucky enough to be staying with us the night the fire broke."

"A silver tongue won't save you, imposter."

"Mari almost killed me for the same reason, but she's already run the DNA tests and everything. You really think the current leader of the Katsuki clan would leave an imposter running around?"

Minako's eyes narrowed.

"Even if you _are_ Yumi's long lost son, it has nothing to do with me. You're still a bloody Katsuki, and I'm not interested in whatever you're here for."

"Really, _oba-san?"_ he asked, almost lazily, his hand still steady on the gun. He could sense Vitya tense at his side, and he wished he could have taken his hand to tell him not to worry. "You would really kill your sister's own son? The son she gave her life to birth?"

Minako hesitated, her hand twitched, and that was all the opening Mari needed.

Pulling a dagger from her boot, she somehow managed to slash the men holding her down and free her hands. Two seconds later she kneed Minako in the stomach and kicked her to the floor, sending the gun she'd been holding spinning on the floor. Grabbing the lacquered sword, she unsheathed it and pressed the tip of it to Minako's throat, her body leaning over her ominously, so that if anyone shot her, her body weight would cause her to fall on Minako and impale her.

"I fucking hate dealing with Okukawas," she snarled. "It's a good thing I prepared some things, just in case."

There was the sound of gunshots and fighting out in the courtyard, and Yuuri realized that Mari had called her men, probably through Alyosha. He laughed, his aim still on Minako.

"Don't underestimate the Katsukis," he said, grinning. "And don't underestimate the Nikiforov _bratva_ either. Well, _oba-san?_ Will you cooperate? Or will you die?"

Minako glared at him and was about to reply when Vitya suddenly pushed Yuuri to the ground and the sound of a gun went off next to his ear.

 _"ARGH!"_

Vitya was heavy, and suddenly there was blood everywhere, soaking through Yuuri's shirt.

But he wasn't in pain.

"Th-Thank God..." Vitya groaned, clutching his side. "I was able to save you this time," he said, his eyes filled with so much tenderness and love that Yuuri felt his heart stop.

"Vi-Vitya?!" he cried, unable to comprehend what was happening, unable to understand.

"D-Don't cry for me," he chuckled weakly in response, raising one bloodied hand to Yuuri's cheek. "But... I wish I... could have... told you... I-love you... one... last..."

His hand fell to Yuuri's chest, the golden ring sparkling through the blood.

And Yuuri broke.

 _"VI-VITYA!"_

* * *

 **End of Part One**

 **Notes:**

Adios, amigos, I'm off to Hyrule...! Or I WOULD be, if I didn't have to write the second chapter of the Astronomer's Handbook AU (Asterisms) before I leave on hiatus *grumble*. Oh and I'll reply to comments for this chapter and 14 slowly over the next few days, but please leave me your thoughts! I love to hear them!

This is the end of Part 1, so if you want to know when Part 2 will be coming up, follow me on Twitter (Okaeri_Kairi) and Tumblr (limitofquestions) for info and also for info on the dj! I won't be posting details here, so you'll have to follow me to know more about that.

Thank you so much for staying with me all the way up to the halfway point of this emotional rollercoaster. I hope you enjoyed it and will look forward to part two as well! Dosvidanya!


	16. Viktor (Victory)

There was nothing more beautiful than the color of blood.

That was a truth long imprinted into Yuuri's heart, a truth that opened the door into the deepest, most frightening part of himself. He couldn't say when it was that he began to think so, but it was probably half a lifetime ago, surrounded by the screams of those boys in the warehouse. Or perhaps it was later, somewhere in the muddled, violent memories of his youth, somewhere before Nikita destroyed the last of his innocence.

Or maybe it was when Viktor, his everything, finally fell still in his arms. The blood soaked through Yuuri's clothes, into his skin, into his very soul, trying to leave its final mark on his body.

 _Don't forget,_ it whispered. _Don't forget that this blood was spilt for you._

A red like the last of the setting sun. A red like the darkest night.

Nothing was more beautiful, because the icy blue warmth of Viktor's eyes would never shine again.

* * *

Mari sighed heavily against the car door. It had been two days since she'd last been able to smoke, and it was heaven to finally inhale the acrid, familiar taste of her favorite brand. She closed her eyes, allowing her mind to fall silent for the first time in what seemed like eons.

"How are you feeling, _kumichou?"_

She grunted in reply.

"How do you think, Jirou?" she said irritably from the back seat. "I've only been hospitalized for the last day and a half."

Her right-hand man chuckled as he started the car.

"You came out relatively light, _ane-ue._ I was surprised, you were bleeding so much I thought you were going to die."

"I'm not that fragile," she scoffed, glancing out the window. It was starting to rain, giving the town of her youth a somewhat melancholy air. She wondered if her mother was hurrying to get the laundry inside. "It was just a couple of head wounds, so they bled more than normal. They had me in there just in case of head trauma, but I'm fine."

"I still think you should have stayed longer," he said, his light brown eyes catching hers in the mirror. Minami Jirou was easily the eldest man in Mari's confidence. He had been around her father's age, back when the clan fell apart. It was only by luck that he hadn't been in the house the night that it burned down, and he was the only person who had had faith that Toshiya's daughter had the makings of a _kumichou._

"It would have been a waste of time," she said. "Besides, I have a job to do."

Jirou gave an irritable huff.

"I don't get where these _rosuke_ get off thinking they can tell you what to do. You're not their personal chauffeur."

"Yuuri is my brother," she said firmly, chewing on the end of her cigarette. "I'm merely doing him a favor."

Even Jirou had nothing to say to that; he'd seen enough to know that the Russian leader was in no state to go anywhere just now.

* * *

 **Vitya had never been good in a crisis. His past spoke for itself; when things went badly, Viktor Nikiforov ran. He ran and ran until there was nowhere left to go, and then he fled into himself. It had taken him many years to come to terms with it, but he knew he was weak. He was a coward, a child, and as much as he hated it, he could not help but run. It was the only way he knew how to protect the heart that broke so easily within his chest.**

 **But that night, though his heart was in tatters and the tears would not dry, Vitya could not run away.**

 **He had killed a man.**

 **He had killed a man he'd known his entire life, a man who had been like an uncle, a man whom his father trusted beyond all else. He had killed a liar, a murderer, a rapist, but that didn't change the fact that someone was now dead by his own hand.**

 **And yet, that was something Viktor could still run from. He could pack his things and vanish, he could hide himself so thoroughly that not even his father or all the _bratva's_ power and wealth could track him down. He had not been idle in New York. He'd heard stories, he'd learned tricks, he'd made connections. He could do it, if he wanted to.**

 **God, how he wanted to.**

 **He wanted to say it was love and concern that made him hesitate, but Vitya couldn't lie to himself in that awful, terrible moment. Yuuri was his little brother, but Viktor knew, deep inside, that this was all his own fault. Vitya had distanced himself from Yuuri, Vitya had failed to be there, to listen. He'd ignored the subtle little cries for help since he was a boy, and that, that was unforgivable.**

 _**I may as well have raped him myself,** _ **he thought in horror as he sat at the edge of Yuuri's bed, trying to steady himself. He felt sick, dirty, and not just because of the blood on his face and clothes. If Yuuri hadn't been there, so thoroughly broken as he cried in Vitya's oversized sweater, he would have vomited.**

 **He couldn't say why he didn't, truthfully. Perhaps it was pity or guilt, but the sight of Yuuri shrinking away from him, crying out his own rapist's name like a lifeline, was enough to remind him that someone else deserved to run now, and that Viktor owed him that small relief.**

 **He opened his mouth to say something, but he realized it was pointless; Yuuri couldn't hear him, and nothing he could say would mean a thing. What was most important just now was clearing the room. For Yuuri's sake.**

 _**Have to get rid of the body,** _ **he told himself, his stomach churning as he looked at the remains of Nikita's corpse on Yuuri's rug. It didn't look much like a human body anymore; Vitya had stabbed into his throat and face so much that it merely resembled some sort of sick, mangled piece of meat attached to a doll's chest and arms. One blue eye was open, the other punctured and half-torn from its socket. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his strength, but even then the grisly image was burned into his retinas.**

 **"Get a grip, Vitya," he muttered to himself through clenched teeth. He had an idea of how to handle these sorts of things, but he'd left the _bratva_ far too early to remember all the details.**

 _**The bleach,** _ **he thought, getting up. His legs shook as he made his way to the hallway. His mother always had bleach on hand, just in case bloody clothes got on anything. He knew enough to know that bleach wasn't enough to completely remove blood traces, but it was always the first step.**

 _**I'll have to toss the rug completely,** _ **he thought once he was away from the room. The bleach would clean up any splatters that got on the bed frame or furniture, and the body...**

 **"Fuck, how am I supposed to get rid of a body from the second floor?!" he cried, slumping down against the wall. Dragging it would only make a further mess, and he wasn't even sure he could handle touching it. "I can't do this... _Mama,_ help me," he sobbed, wrapping his arms around his knees. He felt so small, so useless; surely Katerina would know, surely someone as accomplished and ruthless as his mother... but Katerina couldn't find out. It would destroy her, break her to pieces to find out what had been happening under her own nose. And if his mother couldn't handle it, surely his submissive, hesitant father couldn't either. There was no question about which parent had the stronger stomach.  
**

 **But... there _was_ someone. Someone who was just as talented and cold-hearted enough to follow the orders of the _pakhan's_ son without question. Someone who could be sworn to secrecy.  
**

 **At least, that's what he hoped as he pulled out his phone and dialed Antona's number with shaky fingers.**

* * *

"Mari Katsuki?"

The woman who approached them was so utterly foreign that Mari could have laughed at her poor attempt to imitate her. Dark red hair, bright blue eyes, and a young, intelligent face that obviously belonged to someone under twenty years of age, she could not have been more Russian if she tried. Clearly, the Russians had not been lying about their _obshchak_ 's youth either. Had she not been wearing the same type of black suit they all wore, Mari might have dismissed her as a normal girl.

"Mila Babicheva, I presume?" Mari said as she stood from the uncomfortable airport chair. She held out a hand and Mila shook it.

"Where is Yuri Mikhailovich?" she asked immediately. Her accent was pronounced but not overbearing.

"The hospital," Mari grimaced. She meant to explain in more detail but was interrupted by a dark haired man carrying several suitcases just behind Mila.

"Why is _Papa_ in the hospital?!" he demanded, his fierce expression undermined only by the ridiculous amount of luggage he was juggling.

"Georgi, shut up," Mila ordered, and the man fell silent, eyeing Mari suspiciously. "Please ignore my dog, he is an idiot," she said, clicking her tongue impatiently. Mari couldn't help a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth.

 _Yes, we'll get along well,_ she thought.

"Don't worry. I will explain everything on the way there," she said. She snapped her fingers at Jirou. "Help them with the luggage," she barked. She didn't wait to see if he would obey before she began walking toward the terminal exit. "How much do you know already?" she asked, her shoes pleasantly clacking against the floor.

"Only what Antosha told me over the phone. That Viktor Mikhailovich was shot, and I was needed to replace him immediately."

Mari nodded, clenching her teeth slightly.

"Yes, I suppose that about sums it up. You are Yuuri's left hand, yes? That is how his men referred to you."

"It can be translated that way, yes," Mila said. "I am the person in charge of the... how do you say... the money...?"

"The accounts?"

"Da. It's more complicated than that, but the idea is the same. I oversee business matters, and Viktor oversees security matters. Fighting, information, and the like. I am more of a... hidden presence. But I do dirty my hands," she said suddenly, as if she did not want Mari to think her soft. "People sometimes need to be... convinced."

 _Noted,_ Mari thought, raising an eyebrow. The fierceness in Mila's eyes was proof enough that she was not suited to a desk job.

"Forgive me for being so blunt, but you seem rather... young. How is it that you came to work under Yuuri?"

Mila gave her a calculating sort of look.

"You should know better than to ask that sort of question. But I will answer it, because you are Yuuri's sister." She glanced at her watch, a thick, heavy piece that looked out of place on her slender wrist. "My father was Yuuri's father's _obshchak,_ and so I am Yuuri's _obshchak._ I trained my whole life to do this, and I have known Yuuri since I was a small child. We are... family, of sorts."

Mari paused, a strange feeling in her stomach as the terminal doors slid open automatically.

"I see... You are close?" she asked carefully.

Mila gave her a rueful sort of smile. "In a way. Yuuri is... a private person. I think only Viktor Mikhailovich could count himself as truly close to him. Still, I know Yuuri enough, perhaps more than he realizes. I will follow and protect him no matter the cost."

Mari did not miss the fact that Mila wasn't using the usual Russian forms of respect with Yuuri's name, and the strange feeling seemed to intensify.

"Hmm," she managed to say.

"Tell me, he hasn't been hurt, has he?"

There it was, the question Mari was at a loss for how to answer. She scratched her hair in mild frustration as they came to a stop at the curb, waiting for Jirou to bring the car around for them.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked suddenly. Mila shook her head.

"Not at all."

It was only when the tobacco was in her system and she exhaled deeply that she found the words she needed.

"It depends what you mean by 'hurt,'" she said grimly.

* * *

 **"Viktor Mikhailovich... what have you done?!"**

 **He faltered, completely shaken. It was not the reaction he had expected from his mother's infamous protegee. Antona never showed emotion on her face, and yet, there she was, mouth open in horror, clutching the door frame behind her for support. He had not explained the details over the phone, merely asked her to come and not to tell a soul. He'd managed to get Yuuri to stay in the bathroom, though he was sure it was more out of fear than anything else that his brother had obeyed.**

 **"Is... is that Nikita?!" she asked in a hoarse whisper. Her face had gone deathly pale.**

 **"D-don't you dare call the police!" he cried shakily, hand unsteady on one of his mother's hidden revolvers. He'd found it in a cabinet in the kitchen and thought he might need it, for protection. Just in case. "I'll kill you if you tell anyone! I'll kill you, just like him!"  
**

 **He knew his threat sounded childish and ridiculous, but he was so afraid he could hardly stand.**

 **She was silent for so long, her eyes firmly on Nikita's corpse, that he thought she might have frozen in place. It was only a few minutes later that she turned to him.**

 **"Viktor, did Yuri Mikhailovich do this?" she asked, her voice steely and composed once more. He stared blankly at her, not at all understanding what she meant.**

 **"Yuuri? Of course not!" he said wildly, completely lost.**

 **"You don't have to lie for him," she said almost gently, as if trying to soothe him into telling the truth. Viktor was so unnerved by her certainty that he nearly dropped the pistol.**

 **"Yuuri didn't-! He wouldn't-!" he began, but the sudden, sharp memory of Yuuri covered in gore nearly choked him with a renewed wave of horror and disgust.**

 _**He is a killer too,** _ **he reminded himself. _And that's also my fault._**

 **"He didn't do it," he managed to say shakily, completely forgetting about his threat and lowering the gun. "He... he was being... Nikita was... I walked in on..."  
**

 **He couldn't say it. He bent and retched all over the hall, heaving as the tears burned his cheeks. To his surprise, Antona bent down to meet him at eye level.**

 **"Did... did Nikita hurt Yuuri?" she asked urgently, an almost motherly look of concern in her eyes. Viktor found that he could only nod.**

 **She looked like she wanted to ask more, but instead she bit her lip, thinking hard.**

 **"I will call Pyotr," she finally said. "He can help."**

 **"No! He'll tell everyone!"**

 **Antona gave him a blank sort of look.**

 **"You are naive, Viktor Mikhailovich, if you think either Pyotr or I would ever betray Mikhail Yemelyanovich's sons. No matter the circumstances."**

* * *

Warmth. Gentleness.

All of it was gone. It was over, everything was at an end.

Why did he ever lull himself into thinking it was alright? How did he ever delude himself, how did he manage to close his eyes to the only truth that mattered?

Was he _fucking insane?!_

Perhaps he was. Maybe he'd always been a little insane, thinking he could ever play along with Viktor's games. It was so easy to forget, so easy to just get swept along by it all. He'd always longed for those days of his childhood, Viktor at his side, always protecting him, always there when he needed him. He let that nostalgia poison his senses.

 _What a foolish creature you are, Yuratchka._

Yes, he had always been a fool. A disgusting, broken shell of a human being. He'd let someone pity him, clung to them like a parasite and drained them of everything, everything.

 _You fancied that it was love, didn't you, you poor, misbegotten thing? You thought, perhaps, just maybe, there was something small and real at the core of this whole farce. You forced him to play that part. You forced him to be yours._

Of course he had. No one in their right mind would willingly love a tainted, corrupted soul like his. From the very beginning, it had always been a lie, and Yuuri had been too selfish to let it go.

And now the lie was dead and cold, the truth victorious over all.

 _You are a poison, Yuri Mikhailovich. You should not exist._

Yes, Nikita. Yes, you were always, always right.

* * *

 **Pyotr did not say a word. He arrived and went straight to work, no questions asked. Together the three of them managed to carry the body downstairs and somehow packed it into Pyotr's old car. Neither Petya nor Antona would tell Viktor where they planned to take it, and he found that he would much rather not know. It was enough, at the moment, to get it out of sight.  
**

 **They spent the rest of the night cleaning every surface of Yuuri's room and the hall as meticulously as they could. It was well after three in the morning when Antona declared the place free of evidence, though she insisted on returning the next day to ensure no blood had dripped down the stairs.  
**

 **"We will buy you a rug tomorrow," she said as she finished inspecting the furniture. The sharp smell of bleach was strong in the air; the windows would have to be kept open for days, though thankfully his parents would not be home for another week. "Knowing Katerina Ivanovna, I know exactly where she bought it."**

 **"Th-thank you," Vitya said tiredly. It seemed like the wrong thing to say, and yet he didn't have any other words to describe how much he appreciated what they'd done.**

 **Petya gave him a sympathetic sort of grimace and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder.**

 **"There is nothing to thank us for, Vitya. Nothing happened here tonight."**

 **Viktor dug his nails into his palm nervously.**

 **"But... They'll wonder..."**

 **"Nikita had his share of enemies, Vitya," Antona said simply. "Tonight, he was accosted by one and stabbed to death. His assailant was injured and died nearby of blood loss. That is all you need to know."**

 **They left soon afterward, and Viktor found that he was so exhausted he could barely hold himself up. He wanted nothing more than to head upstairs and hide under his covers for an eternity, but there was something more important to deal with first.**

 **He made his way upstairs, feeling far wearier than his twenty years.**

 **"Yuuri?" he asked hesitantly, knocking on the bathroom door gently. His brother had not emerged once during the whole operation, but his sobs had quieted down at some point, and Vitya suspected that his brother had fallen asleep. When there was no reply, he found a lock pick in Yuuri's desk and managed to force the door open.**

 **As he'd suspected, Yuuri had passed out on the bathroom floor. He looked far younger than sixteen, a small boy with stark dark circles under his eyes and crusted tear stains down his pale cheeks. He was so still that Vitya was afraid he might have died, but he was thankfully still breathing. He was in such a deep sleep that he didn't stir at all as Vitya pulled the bloodied sweater off him and did his best to wash the stains off his skin with a wet towel. He had to burn the clothes too, after all, before he went to sleep.**

 **When that was done he found another oversized shirt for Yuuri to wear and carried him to his bedroom across the hall.**

 **"I'm sorry," he whispered as he settled Yuuri in his bed as quietly he could. "I didn't think you'd want to sleep in your room tonight, so I hope you won't be too shocked when you wake up here instead."**

 **Yuuri's slow breathing continued, innocent and defenseless. He could not hear the apology, but it didn't matter. It still needed to be said, for Viktor's own sake.  
**

 _**I failed you, Yuuri. I should have been here, always, but I wasn't.** _

**He had always been so small, so fragile. This was the Yuuri that Viktor remembered, the Yuuri he'd loved so much, but it tore him to pieces, knowing that it was this part of his brother that had been so cruelly taken advantage of. The other Yuuri, the Yuuri in the _bratva,_ that had nothing to do with this battered little boy. This was the Yuuri that Viktor had once promised to protect with all his heart.  
**

 **"I will keep that promise until I die," he whispered, closing his eyes tightly.  
**

* * *

 _"Ane-ue._ Mila Yakovlevna. Welcome back."

"Antona," Mari said in return. The assassin had not moved from her position in front of the hospital room for days. "How is he?"

Antona merely shook her head slightly, her face as inscrutable as always. Mari had to admire the efficiency and speed with which Antona and Pyotr took charge. From the moment Viktor was shot, they immediately dragged Yuuri away from danger, ignoring his cries. Since then they'd been working like a well-oiled machine, keeping the other _avtorityets_ under control and ensuring that the _pakhan_ had some privacy with his grief. Of course, Mari knew it was more than that, but she was sure that their quick thinking and swift countermeasures had prevented the truth from leaking out.

"Ina Bauer?" Mila asked casually.

"Yes, ma'am."

Mari had no idea what the exchange meant, but Mila did not explain. She pushed open the door without asking permission.

It was as if time hadn't passed at all since she'd been there earlier that morning. Yuuri didn't seem to have moved an inch, hunched over in a chair facing the bed, face hidden in his clasped hands, as if in prayer. His lips moved feverishly in whispered Russian, repeating the same string of unintelligible sounds over and over.

As Mari closed the door behind them, a voice spoke off to the side.

"He can't hear us."

Pyotr was standing by the wall, arms behind his back. His demeanor had changed drastically from the friendly, overbearing attitude he'd worn over the past few weeks. He was all business now, eyes cold and calculating. Mila glanced over at him and nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes, I was warned that could happen," she said simply. "Still... this is my first time seeing it."

She took a careful step toward Yuuri, as if she were half-expecting him to look up as she drew close. Nothing changed. She raised her hand to his face and waved, but he took no notice.

"I suppose you can't understand what he's saying, Miss Mari?" she asked, sighing as she pulled away.

"No need for formalities; just call me Mari. And no, I don't. Sounds like prayer or something."

"Yuuri doesn't believe in prayer," Mila said as she found a chair and pulled it toward the bed. She indicated that Mari should do the same. "Neither do I. People like us rarely do," she added cryptically. "Prayers are merely empty words. Words are powerless, when they don't reach anyone." She crossed her legs and rested her elbow on her knee, her face cupped in her palm. "Still, there are times when that's all you have. Words, I mean."

"I don't really understand," Mari frowned. "Is he praying or not?"

"Not really, not in the... competent...? No, convent?" Mila paused, clearly wracking her brain for the word she lacked.

"Conventional, commander," Pyotr supplied.

"Ah, yes, that," she said, waving him away. "Conventional sense. He is merely repeating the same words."

"Which are?"

"'You should never have touched me.'"

She did not elaborate. She didn't even seem to notice that Mari was confused. Her eyes were on Yuuri, but her thoughts were clearly somewhere else as the steady beeping of Viktor's life support system echoed throughout the room.

* * *

 **Notes:**

After a much delayed break (of sorts) the suffering finally resumes! For those of you who have not been keeping up with me via twitter, here's what's been going on.

-The **project** is nearly complete, after many mishaps and crying on my part. Batch 1 (aka, the only batch) will close in a couple of weeks, so I strongly recommend you check that out now if you are interested. For more information, please check out my twitter (okaeri_kairi) or tumblr (limitofquestions). It's like the first post on both, you literally cannot miss it. More interest lets me know you guys want more suffering and a continuation of the project, so at LEAST signal boost for me, please! Go post on facebook or instagram about it or something, just help a struggling author out, I beg. oTL

-There are several side stories now available for this series! Check them out on my profile, if you haven't already.

-There's probably something else that I'm supposed to say but I pulled an all-nighter so I'm a bit dead here. I'll come back to it if I remember.

Thanks for being so patient with me, and I hope you will enjoy part 2 of SepAnx! As always, leave me your thoughts, I swear I'll get to them soon!


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